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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26102563">A Little Unsteady</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltedkiss/pseuds/Saltedkiss'>Saltedkiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unsteady [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, London, M/M, Merlin loses his magic (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon - Freeform, Merthur - Freeform, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Modern Era, POV Alternating, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26102563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltedkiss/pseuds/Saltedkiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The fifteen hundred years which have passed since the battle at Camlann have not done Merlin any favours.<br/>He's been left alone without his friends, without his king... and without his magic. </p><p>All this time, Arthur has been watching over Merlin from behind the veil, desperate to find a way to help Merlin restore his magic. When Arthur finally washes up on the shores of Lake Avalon, he's in an unfamiliar world. He doesn't know where to go, but feels a strange pull. Without any other options, he decides to follow it.</p><p>Some things might not be lost to Merlin after all...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freya &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Freya &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Unsteady [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. This house doesn't feel like home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fifteen hundred years was a long time.  </p><p>Merlin certainly thought so, at least.  Some of it had gone by far too quickly, while certain years had felt like a lifetime.  </p><p>Somewhere along the way, Merlin had gotten used to the changing of seasons, the passing of years. He had met new friends and had seen them grow old and buried. He’d mourned them, of course. But none as intensely as... Him.  </p><p>Even in thoughts, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to say His name. Not anymore. It had been at least a couple of decades since he had said His name out loud. The panic attack that followed had lasted over a week. Every now and then he’d be reminded of Him, when he’d see the sun reflect on someone’s blond hair or when he’d pass someone in the street with eyes as blue as a cold winter morning. He’d gotten better at handling his reaction whenever that sort of thing happened.  </p><p>Every now and then, he'd be taken by surprise. But Merlin had gotten better at avoiding situations which were sure to trigger those unwanted memories. More than a century had passed since he'd last been to Albion and it had been much, much longer since he'd been at the Lake. He hated the place, for it was sure to remind him of everything he’d lost that day. </p><p> </p><p>That one awful day by the lake of Avalon...   </p><p>He’d lost his best friend.  </p><p>His king.  </p><p>And his magic.  </p><p> </p><p><em> --Fifteen hundred years ago </em> --</p><p> </p><p>Merlin’s return to Camelot was one of those periods that seemed to stretch out forever. It had only been a week since the battle of Camlann and yet people were already talking about the coronation of Queen Guinevere. <em>Too soon</em>, Merlin had thought. And yet the days that thad passed until that moment each held a lifetime’s worth of misery for Merlin.  </p><p>Merlin didn’t eat unless Gaius told him to. He didn’t leave his chambers and barely said a word to anyone, and even then, he only spoke when spoken to.  </p><p>He would lie awake at night, afraid of facing the nightmare, which always came. The nightmare always started out in the same way. He’d see Arthur’s face, that glorious head of blond hair. He’d stare into those blue eyes and see the wrinkles around them as his lips curled into that amazing smile of his.  </p><p>Merlin would reach for Arthur’s hand, and take it, until, where their hands touched dark tendrils of corrupting magic sprouted from Merlin’s hand onto Arthur’s, slowly devouring him, draining the life out of him. No matter what Merlin did, he couldn’t get the tendrils off, couldn’t save his friend, until his lifeless, drained body laid on his chest, just as it had –  </p><p>That was usually when the screams started. Merlin’s. Always Merlin’s. </p><p>“Arthur! No! Don’t leave me! Don’t just – don’t go!” Merlin shouted, as two calloused hands grabbed onto his shoulders. Gaius’. </p><p>While consciousness returned to Merlin, so did the realisation that, even though he was awake now, the nightmare was far from over. He grabbed Gaius’ forearms and held on.  </p><p>“I’m here, my boy,” Gaius said, sounding at least ten years older than he was. He wrapped his thinning arms around Merlin and just held him. This always seemed to make it better for Merlin after he’d had one of his nightmares, if only for a while.  </p><p>The two of them sat together until the sun came up, as Merlin continued to sob, even when he’d long since run out of tears.  </p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Merlin got up early. When Gaius came out of his chambers, he found him cleaning out mouldy jars that had once contained medicine. He’d been at it for so long, his fingers had started to bleed from the rough brush he was using. Splinters had come off it, and were embedded deep in Merlin’s hands.  </p><p>Gaius walked up to him, and took the brush from the sorcerer’s hands.  </p><p>“You can’t keep doing this, my boy,” he said. “You have to stop tormenting yourself.” </p><p>Merlin stayed quiet as Gaius started to pull the splinters out gently.  </p><p>“He wouldn’t have wanted this, you know,” The old man said.  “He’d want for you to be happy. To...” </p><p>“We won’t know what he’d want, will we! Cause he’s not around to tell us. ‘Cause I... ‘Cause I failed him.”  </p><p>Merlin’s voice broke, at that.  </p><p>Gaius stopped what he was doing, and went still. He put his hand over Merlin’s and squeezed gently. “Don’t say that. You did everything you could have. You always have.” </p><p>“I can’t bring him back, Gaius.” </p><p>“As you shouldn’t. Some things aren’t to be trifled with, not even by anyone as powerful as you.” </p><p>Merlin sucked in a breath. “I’m not.” </p><p>“Not what?” </p><p>“Powerful. Not anymore. I can... I can feel it, Gaius. I don’t have my magic anymore.” </p><p>“Nonsense!” </p><p>Merlin took his still bleeding hand out of Gaius’ and lifted it towards the fireplace. “<em> Forbaernan </em> <em> ...”  </em>The embers glowed a little, as did Merlin’s eyes, but it was obvious to Gaius that a spell this simple should have resulted in a blazing fire when cast by a man like Merlin.  </p><p>“<em> Forbaernan </em> <em> ” </em> </p><p>Nothing.  </p><p>“It’s like I said. My magic... It’s... Gone. It died with him. I felt it slip away, as he got weaker. After he d–” Merlin sucked in a breath, not able to say the word. “After it was over, I pushed the boat onto the lake, using magic and couldn’t even manage to set it on fire like I’d intended. After that... Nothing.” </p><p>Merlin looked up into Gaius’ eyes. “My magic, it was... for him. Always for him. And now that he’s gone, I suppose that means there’s no use for it anymore. No use for me, either.” </p><p>The old man’s fingers trembled a little as he continued to tend to Merlin’s hands. He didn’t say a thing. There was nothing to be said, after all.  </p><p>*** </p><p>A couple of days later, on the morning after the coronation ceremony, Gaius woke to the sound of a door shutting quietly. He would have missed it, were it not for the fact that he’d been expecting to hear the sound for a while now.  </p><p>The physician got up as quickly as his old body would let him and hurried towards the door. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, boy!?” he shouted, unbothered by whoever it was he’d be waking at this hour.  </p><p>Merlin turned around, his hollow cheeks turning red. “I... I was just...” </p><p>“Just what? Off to gather some herbs were you now? With your bag packed and your closet emptied out?” Gaius’ eyebrow reached new heights as he said this.  </p><p>“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve tidied up your room for the first time in years. Or how you’ve managed to stock my cupboards for months to come. Don’t deny it. What do you take me for? An old fool, is it? One not worthy of a proper good-bye?” </p><p>“No!” Merlin shouted, his voice echoing through the corridor. A sleepy moan came from behind one of the doors near him. </p><p>“I didn’t mean to... I just... I cannot stay when there is no longer a use for me,” Merlin said, wincing as he recognised the words Gaius had once said to him, a long time ago, this time coming from him. </p><p>Gaius remembered, too. With a sad look in his eyes, he said. “You are not leaving. And don’t you dare say it’s for the best.” </p><p>Merlin looked at Gaius, his eyes deep in his face, the dark circles under them, ever expanding. For the first time in over a week, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Is this where you tell me you’ll come with me?” </p><p>“Good heavens no,” Gaius shouted, “winter is coming soon! We’re not going anywhere, you and I, and that’s that.” </p><p>Merlin just nodded.  </p><p>“Stay here. This is your home.”  </p><p>Merlin nodded again. “I’ll stay, Gaius. For you, I’ll stay.” </p><p>He headed back inside and went up to his room. Merlin never unpacked the bag, but left it shoved under his bed, within reach. Gaius noticed, of course, but they silently agreed never to speak of it again.  </p><p>In the following months, Gaius would look for ways to restore Merlin’s magic. He went through old scriptures until his eyes were red from reading by the fading candle light. They tried a couple of things. But none of them ever worked.  </p><p>Merlin’s magic didn’t return. </p><p>But the nightmares always did.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin stayed in Camelot for years, a ghost of his former self. He felt strangely out of place. Everyone around him seemed to act as if that were true as well. The Knights had stopped asking him to join them on expeditions. Queen Guinevere didn’t ask for him to join the court for meals after a while. They gave him odd, distant looks as time passed. At first, they were filled with pity, later sorrow. As years went by and Merlin didn’t age, the looks they gave him became suspicious, too.  </p><p>Merlin would sometimes hear their whispers.  </p><p>If what Merlin had told them were true and he didn’t have his magic anymore to aid during droughts or when fending off invading armies, how could it be that he’d still looked as young as ever. Was he lying? Had he only cared for Arthur, and never Camelot?  </p><p>Merlin never did anything to discourage the rumours. He quite enjoyed the peace and quiet. If they were mad at him, at least they wouldn’t try to start a conversation, or get him to eat something, or sleep. He let himself get alienated from his friends, living the life of solitude that he’d come to find so agreeable.  </p><p> </p><p>The only person Merlin stayed close to in the years after Camlann, was Gaius.  </p><p>When Gaius got too old to go out to gather his own herbs, Merlin took up the task for him. </p><p>When Gaius’ gout became so bad his fingers refused to bend anymore, Merlin took up potion making for him.  </p><p>And at long last, after Gaius drew his last breath, his old hands in Merlin’s, Merlin got up to take the bag he’d stashed under his bed all those years ago, and left. Merlin didn’t attend the funeral. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye. Not again. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi everyone, thanks for being here.<br/>If you've gotten this far, make sure to drop a comment, letting me know what you thought of it. I'm still working on this, but I've already completed the first few chapters. The next one should be up within a week. It will get less angsty at some point, I promise, but it might take a while before we get there.</p><p>Soundtrack while writing:<br/>Unsteady - X Ambassadors<br/>Trembling Hands - The Temper Trap<br/>Exile - Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And I am nowhere to be found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning: This chapter deals with depression, mental illness and suicidal thoughts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Gaius’ death, Merlin wandered around his King’s lands. He visited places they had been to, be it together or apart. Merlin tired, but couldn’t bring himself to stop going, in the hopes of getting his magic back. And with his magic, his King.  </p><p>Traveling was slow.  </p><p>Merlin knew that his old friends would have been more than willing to give him a horse, but he never asked for one. When he had left Camelot, Merlin hadn’t wanted to bother anyone. The mare he’d once been given by Arthur had passed away years ago. One of Percival’s children had trained its last foal. One by one the Knights had retired, had started to train a new generation to take on the adventuring in service of their queen, while their predecessors went home to their wives and families in the evenings. The Knights’ faces had become wrinkled and aged from the sun. The hair around their temples had started to turn grey, and yet Merlin had just been... Merlin.  </p><p>Always just Merlin. </p><p>The last King’s servant had remained unchanged before he’d left Camelot and still hadn’t changed as he roamed his King’s lands. One day, when Merlin passed a stream, he stopped to look at his reflection in the water.  </p><p>What he saw, shocked him. Surely, it hadn’t been that bad when he was still in Camelot?  </p><p>His eyes shone a brighter blue than they once had, contrasted by dark circles underneath them. His messy bird’s nest of tangled black hair had grown out until the tips reached his shoulders. Merlin’s cheekbones, which had been the subject of several of the chambermaids’ – and stableboys’ - dreams according to Gwen, stuck out more than they ever had. Merlin’s old clothes hung around his body, tattered and worn.   </p><p>Merlin sucked in a breath, wondering how long it had been since he’d eaten anything. He didn’t seem to need food anymore, really. His body remained as it was. Unchanging, ever since the day of –  </p><p>Merlin’s vision became blurry, his face felt hot. A sweat broke out and when he reached up to wipe the first beads from his forehead, Merlin noticed his hands were shaking. Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?  </p><p>Even after all these years, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to think of that day at the lakeside. He forced himself to think of something else. Anything else.  </p><p>He did his best to drown out the thoughts of his King and focused on another memory instead.  </p><p>He felt his breathing slow down again, as he did his very best to remember the time Gaius had asked Merlin about his unchanging body. The conversation had taken place a couple of weeks before the man Merlin had come to think of as a father, had died.  </p><p>Merlin tried his best to think of nothing but Gaius, as the old man had stretched out his arm to touch Merlin’s hair with bony gout-ridden fingers. The man who had all but raised Merlin had lost his eyesight in the end. One of the only things he’d been able to discern anymore were the colours of his surroundings.  </p><p>“Still black,” he’d croaked, his voice old and so much weaker than Merlin remembered it to be.  Gaius hadn’t spoken much in the end, after all.  At some point the old physician had simply given up on trying to get Merlin to talk.  Gaius didn’t bother to hide his surprise when Merlin had actually answered that one time.  </p><p>“I think I don't age because some of the magic I had, still lingers. I feel it, sometimes.” </p><p>“Oh really?” Gaius sounded oddly excited. It was, Merlin had realised, because the man had been starved for conversation. Merlin felt a pang of guilt go through him, as he remembered the days of silence that had preceded this moment.  </p><p>“Yes, it never came back, of course. But sometimes I can feel the wind change before it does. I still heal quicker than any of your patients ever do. And then... well, there’s the obvious.” Merlin gestured at his face. He dropped his arm, when he saw Gaius’ misty eyes, remembering the man could barely see a thing. “I mean, well, I haven’t changed much over the years, if at all.” </p><p>The unspoken “<em> unlike you, Gaius </em>,” hung in the air for a couple of moments, before Merlin changed the subject. That night he hadn’t stopped talking. Merlin and Gaius had spoken about simpler times, about the time Gaius had served Uther and about Merlin’s first weeks in Camelot. They never mentioned Arthur, the both of them knew very well that saying the name would be enough to ruin the moment, to bring back the cold dark silence to Gaius’ quarters.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Merlin sat by the stream for a while, his mind still on the light-hearted conversation he had had with Gaius that one night. More of those nights had followed. Merlin had made an effort to brighten the man’s days. They had both known Gaius wouldn’t have much time left, and Merlin was determined to make up for the years of silence.  </p><p>Merlin blinked a couple of times.  He didn’t know how much time had passed since the panic attack started, and he’d gotten lost in thoughts, but when he finally looked up, the sunset had begun to turn the evening sky in a marvelous wonder of pink and orange. His breathing had evened out again. </p><p>For now.  </p><p>He got up, pulled his old bag up higher on his shoulder and started walking again.  He kept walking all through the night and was still at it when the first rays of morning sun hit his face.  </p><p>He honestly didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. Merlin had just been putting one foot in front of the other ever since Gaius died. </p><p><em> No,  </em> Merlin corrected himself. <em>  I have been going through the motions for much, much longer than that.  </em> </p><p><em> Maybe,  </em> he thought,  <em> Maybe it’s time to just... stop.  </em> </p><p>Merlin froze, scared by the thought that had just entered his mind, and yet strangely fascinated by the idea as well.  </p><p><em> What if I made it stop?  </em> He asked himself.  <em> What if it could all be over? Gaius and I... We’ve tried to find a way to restore my magic so we could… fix things. We tried everything we could think of. And nothing worked.  </em> </p><p>Merlin remembered a day, long ago. It had been when he’d first arrived in Camelot, right after the fight in the market place between him and... Merlin swallowed and tried not to think of Him.  </p><p>He’d gone back to Gaius’ chambers and had received a proper scolding for being so reckless. Gaius had told Merlin he had to stop using his magic. </p><p>Merlin still remembered his answer to that. He repeated the words he’d once spoken to Gaius out loud. </p><p>“If I can’t use magic, what have I got?” Merlin croaked. His voice sounded like a stranger’s. He barely recognised it, with how hoarse he’d become. How long had it been since he’d said anything? </p><p>He cleared his throat and continued. </p><p>“I’m just a nobody and I always will be.” </p><p>Tears flooded his eyes again. Merlin’s lower lip trembled as he finished. </p><p>“If I can’t use magic, I might as well die.” </p><p>***</p><p>The words had become his companion. Merlin repeated them over and over and over. When he wasn’t saying them out loud, he’d find himself reciting them in his head, steady as a drum.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> If I can’t use magic, I might as well die. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>The voice in his head grew louder and louder over time, until it drowned out each other sound. It had started out as Merlin’s own voice, or the one he thought he’d sounded as at least. The longer this went on, the more distorted it got, until he could barely recognise it anymore. The voice had become that of an old, angry man, shouting the same sentence over and over and over in his head.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> If I can’t use magic, I might as well die. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin kept marching on the rhythm of those words he kept reciting, moving forward, just placing one foot in front of the other, again and again and again.   </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> If I can’t use magic, I might as well die. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Until he stepped in water.  </p><p>The soft splashing sound and the sensation of the water creeping in through the holes in his worn-out shoes was enough to get Merlin to focus on his surroundings again, for the first time in what seemed like weeks.  </p><p>He gasped, the air sucked out of his lungs by the sight before him.  </p><p>He’d stepped into the Lake. The lake … where... he had...  </p><p>“No. Gods.. No,” Merlin moaned.  </p><p>He sunk to his knees, the water splashing around his knees. “Please. Please no.”</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Yes. Yes, Merlin. This is where you wanted to go, isn’t it? </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>The voice rang between Merlin’s ears.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> If you can’t use magic, Merlin. You might as well die. I’m just making it easier for you. So easy. Just go ahead and... Lie down, Merlin. Aren’t you tired from all this wandering about? I know I’d be. I would be and I am and I was and I always will be. Got that? </em> </p>
  <p><em> GOT THAT? </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin pressed his hands to his ears, in a futile attempt to drown the voice out. He finally recognised it for what it was. It had been Merlin’s voice, after all. Or rather what his voice had sounded like when he’d used the ageing spell. Dragoon, he’d called himself back then. Dragoon the Great.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I have to say, I do enjoy the symmetry. Couldn't have thought of a better place myself. Think you'd have been a better poet than you were a sorcerer? I mean, not that it's hard.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Go away. Please. Please just... Go... away.” </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> I’ve got a better idea. How about YOU go away. The time has come and gone for you to come and go, I’d say. I’d say it and I have so I did, I did, I DID, I DID, I - </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin screamed in an attempt to drown the voice out. His screams were joined by a manic cackle between his ears. Louder and louder and –  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Two soft, wet hands were placed over Merlin’s.</p><p>The screaming stopped.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go again! Thank you for being here, means a lot. There's more to come, and I promise things won't stay this bleak for long. Feel free to leave a comment, or come find me on Tumblr ( @Shut-up-Merlin )</p><p>Soundtrack:<br/>Breathe me - Sia<br/>Home - Sigrid<br/>Exile - Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver<br/>Never say die - CHVRCHES</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Anywhere, I would have followed you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin’s eyes opened the moment the hands covered his. He dropped his hands, a silent “oh” on his lips. The hands stayed where they were, now cupping Merlin’s face.  </p><p>His eyes widened, and he tried to speak, his voice strained from screaming seconds earlier. </p><p>“F- Freya?” </p><p>She simply nodded, the sadness in her eyes mirrored his. The frail figure kneeled before Merlin. She wore soaked white robes, that clung to her lithe body. She sat on her knees in front of Merlin, in the murky water that rippled around their legs. The Lady of the Lake pushed back Merlin’s tangled hair, and smoothed it down the back of his head. Her fingers got caught in the strands and she started to slowly untangle the mess it had become. Freya’s touches were careful, tentative and soft. It reminded Merlin of the way you’d handle a spooked horse. </p><p>They sat there for what seemed like hours, while the lake’s subtle waves lapped at their knees. One by one, the knots in Merlin’s unkempt hair were removed. He leaned into the touch. It had been so long, so very very long since he’d let anyone touch him. So long since he’d allowed anyone but Gaius to show him some warmth.  </p><p>When she finished, Freya kept running her hands through Merlin’s hair. Over and over again.  </p><p>“Thank you.” His voice sounded stronger than it had before.  </p><p>She nodded again.  </p><p>“Are you... are you real? I’ve been – I’ve been hearing… voices. And. Well honestly I just don’t think I could – “  </p><p>“I am.”  </p><p>“Oh.”  </p><p>Merlin nearly collapsed after that, when he finally allowed the rest of the adrenaline that had kept him going to leave his body. Freya wrapped her surprisingly strong arms around his body, and managed to keep him upright.  </p><p>“Let’s get you dried up.”  </p><p>She didn’t seem to have any trouble at all when she lifted his scrawny body out of the lake. Without asking, she pulled his bag off of his shoulders after laying him down on the shore. She rummaged through it, and frowned when she pulled out a mouldy block of what could have once been meat. Or cheese. She tossed it aside and kept looking.  </p><p>“No food.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an accusation. She just said it, and he moved his head in what he thought could resemble a nod. It apparently did, because she nodded back.  </p><p>She finally found something to her liking, it seemed, when a small sigh left her lips. Merlin turned his head. She was holding up an old, barely used flint that had ended up at the bottom of Merlin’s bag. He tried to remember the last time he’d bothered to eat, sleep or even start a fire. And found that he couldn’t.  </p><p>“You’re punishing yourself,” Freya said when she started gathering driftwood. “It has to stop. You don’t deserve this.” </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Yes </em> <em>  you do. She’s lying.  </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin winced when he heard the voice again, that sounded so much like Dragoon’s. He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the voice and chose to focus on his friend instead. </p><p>“I don’t know about that,” he said, unable to disagree with the voice, no matter how much he wanted to.  </p><p>“I do.” She focused on getting the fire started while she talked, as if this was just a normal conversation. “You don’t deserve this. A man like you deserves the world. I only wish I could make you see it. You have the kindest, gentlest soul I’ve ever seen. And it’s time to allow those wounds to heal.” </p><p>“I’m not sure they will.” He chose to ignore the compliments, not sure how to answer to what she had said, and only focused on the last part. “I don’t think they ever will.” </p><p>“Time. Give it time.” </p><p>He barked out a short laugh at that. “Yeah. Looks like I’ve been given plenty of that.” </p><p>“I’ve noticed.” She sounded sad.  </p><p>He stayed quiet. </p><p>“It’s not fair, I know. None of it was. And I’m sorry for your loss.” </p><p>“The kingdom has lost a great –” </p><p>“Not the kingdom. You. I’m sorry for <em> your </em> loss, Merlin.” </p><p>“I... Thank you.” </p><p>Freya leaned back when the driftwood caught fire. Merlin stared into the flames and felt Freya place her small hand on top of his. She didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did he. Even Dragoon seemed to have quieted down. For now.  </p><p>Together they watched the flames devour the wood. Merlin’s old clothes dried quickly. A while after that, his shivering stopped, too. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this peaceful.  The fire burned quickly. Freya waited as long as she could and finally let go of Merlin’s hand, when she got up to add some more wood to the hungry flames.  </p><p>When she came back, Merlin finally spoke. “I’m... It’s good to see a familiar face, Freya. I …" </p><p>“I know what you were doing. You... You can’t.” She interrupted him. There was a hint of panic in her voice, a sense of urgency, as if she’d been trying to find the right moment to breach the subject and still wasn’t sure this was it.  </p><p>Merlin didn’t answer. The fire became blurry when tears clouded his vision again.  </p><p>“I’m tired,” He said quietly. “I feel like an old man, even though I don’t look the part. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been wandering around. The lands around me are changing and I just... don’t.” </p><p>He knew she was looking at him, but couldn’t manage to meet her eyes.  </p><p>“I’ve lost my magic. I’ve lost...” </p><p>“Arthur.” </p><p>Just hearing the name was enough to make his stomach clench. Freya threw another piece of driftwood onto the flames, allowing him some time to gather his thoughts.  </p><p>“I’ve lost my purpose. Even if he ever returns, what use would I be? I couldn’t even protect him with my magic, how could I ever be enough without?” </p><p>“You’ve always been enough. You always will be.” </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> She’s such a bad liar. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin nodded.  </p><p>“It’s not gone, you know that right?” </p><p>Merlin gave her a puzzled look. </p><p>“I can feel it. Here.” She leaned in and put a hand over his heart. “Your magic. It’s weaker than it’s ever been, but I felt it the moment you stepped into the lake. It’s not lost. You’ve simply misplaced it.” She smiled a little.  </p><p>Merlin tried to return the smile. He couldn’t.  </p><p>“Do you really think so?” </p><p>For a moment, Freya looked as if she was going to say something, but had decided against it. Her thumb rubbed over Merlin’s chest. The movement was so gentle, Merlin didn’t think she knew she was doing it.  </p><p>“I know so.” When she took her hand away, the space over his heart felt cold.  “You just have to... You can’t stop searching for it. You... can’t.” </p><p>“Oh."</p><p>They both stared out into the flames for a while. </p><p>“You mentioned I’ve misplaced it. Mind telling me where? I don’t think there’s many placed left where I haven’t thought to look.” </p><p>Merlin barked out a dry laugh.  </p><p>Freya hesitated. Something flashed in her eyes before she lowered her gaze. Hurt, Merlin thought. She looked hurt.  </p><p>“I... I’m not quite sure how you can get it back. It’s like I said, I felt your magic.”  </p><p>“Or what’s left of it anyways.” He sounded bitter.  </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“I just don’t understand. I went to the Crystal Cave after Morgana took it from me, right before…” </p><p>Merlin swallowed, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. Unfinished.  </p><p>“She had made me lose my magic, you see. I went to the Crystal Cave, to get it back, so I could help...”  </p><p>Freya nodded quietly.  </p><p>“I saw my father there. He told me I am magic, and can’t lose what I am.” </p><p>“You just need to figure out a way to keep going until you get it back. You will. I’m sure of it."</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Ding ding ding! Lie number three!</em><em> You’ve lost it all, Merlin.  </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>"You can’t give up, Merlin. Promise me?” </p><p>He didn’t answer. She didn’t ask again.  </p><p>“Get some sleep. I’ll watch over you.” </p><p> </p><p>And she did. Before Merlin opened his eyes the next morning, he could feel her presence before he felt her fingers running through his hair again. His head had ended up on her lap at some point during the night. He revelled in the touch. It had been so long since he’d experienced a kindness such as hers. So long since he’d allowed it.  </p><p>Merlin didn’t open his eyes yet. He was scared that he’d wake up to find this had been a dream. </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, almost as if she had read his thoughts. “We still have time.” It sounded sad. </p><p>Merlin opened his eyes and found Freya’s face right over his.  </p><p>“How much time?”</p><p>“Not nearly enough. I can’t be out of the water for much longer. But I’ll stay here for as long as I can.”  </p><p>He nodded in thanks.  </p><p>“You should eat.” Her gentle fingers left Merlin’s hair. He watched her as she reached for something near the fire. He saw a boulder had been placed next to it, on it was a wrapped fish. Merlin’s mouth watered the second the scent hit him.  </p><p>Hungry. He was hungry, he realised, for the first time in what seemed like years. The loud rumble that came from his hollow stomach confirmed this. </p><p>Freya smiled and pushed him up into a seated position, somehow sensing he might not have the strength to do this himself. Merlin made short work of the fish. It reminded him of how the flames had licked at the dry wood the day before. </p><p> </p><p>During the days that followed, Freya only ever left Merlin’s side long enough to gather more wood or to find him something to eat. Merlin devoured every single thing she brought him. He hadn’t realised how famished he had been. Once he did, the hunger he felt was insatiable.  </p><p>The only thing he had been starved for more than food, he found out, had been conversation.  </p><p>He had found it difficult to speak at first, afraid Freya would bring <em>him</em> up again. But she didn’t and neither did he. They spoke about the changing lands surrounding them. About how a small settlement had grown near the lake, where before there had only been wilderness. They spoke of Merlin’s magic and came up with new ideas, new ways to get it back. They struck Merlin as a little absurd, but then again, this was his <em>magic  </em>they were talking about. He had learned long ago that the most unthinkable of options was usually the solution of the problem at hand.  </p><p>Merlin was happy she had come out of the lake when she did. And he had told her so during their third evening together. In response, she had taken his hand in hers and had squeezed it gently. He had looked down at their joined hands and had smiled. The odd sensation in the taut muscles in his cheeks made him wonder how long it had been since he’d shown anyone something as simple as a smile. He refused to dwell on it for too long and enjoyed the conversation. Their voices continued to echo over the lake until deep in the night.  </p><p> </p><p>Merlin woke up later that night. The air around him smelled like a burning fire and... he opened his eyes. He saw a wrapped fish on a boulder that had been placed close to the fire. He looked around, expecting to see Freya. She wasn’t there.  </p><p>He looked at the spot she’d been in earlier. There was a small puddle on the ground, as if she’d only just left.  </p><p>Alone again, he thought. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Not quite, boy. Not quite. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>*** </p><p>Freya shuddered when she resurfaced. A thunderstorm hung over the beach before her. Grey clouds had gathered above the otherwise peaceful place. She could already hear the rumbling in the distance.  </p><p>A familiar shape was waiting for her on the shores of Avalon. The sand around his feet showed where he had been pacing. From the depth of the tracks in the sand, she suspected he had been there since the moment she left. </p><p>“And?” The man’s authoritative voice ran out over the water. Freya recognised the worry he tried to mask.  </p><p>“I didn’t have much time. I just hope it was enough.” </p><p>“You... hope? Freya that’s <em>Mer</em>lin  you’re talking about. Hope isn’t good enough!” The man shouted. Right at that moment, lightning struck the cliffs in the distance. The man started pacing again.  </p><p>Freya walked up to him. When she emerged from the lake, her robes were dry. They should have been soaked, should cling to her body. Yet they didn’t. The rules of the mortal realm didn’t apply. Not here.  </p><p>She walked up to the man and took his hand. His calloused palms were sweaty. </p><p>“You should have told him.” </p><p>“You know I can’t.” </p><p>The man nodded in response.  </p><p>“He is strong, Arthur. He’ll heal.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos, they mean a lot! I struggled a bit with this chapter. Freya is such a wonderful character and I hope I did her justice in the end. Let me know what you think! </p><p>Writing soundtrack:<br/>- Say something - A Great Big World<br/>- Turning Page - Sleeping At Last<br/>- Breathe Me - Sia<br/>- Already Gone - Sleeping At Last<br/>- The Lakes - Taylor Swift<br/>- Epiphany - Taylor Swift</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Looking for a little bit of hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dying hurt.  </p><p>Arthur had never expected anything different, but when it finally happened, there was no denying it anymore. The glorious deaths bards had sung about in court during feasts, the heroic warrior’s death he’d read about... None of it came close to what it actually felt like.  </p><p>Arthur had witnessed his fair share of deaths both on and off the battle field. He had seen grown men cry out for their mothers, had heard both enemies and allies weep as they held a severed limb close to their chest. He knew it would be no different for him. And yet. When the time came, a part of him still didn’t see it coming.  </p><p>There was no honour in dying. He didn’t feel brave. Didn’t feel accomplished or chivalrous. He felt cold and tired.  </p><p>Arthur felt his life slip away while his servant clung onto him even harder, in a futile attempt to keep him close. A part of Arthur wished for Merlin to try harder, to make this work. That part of Arthur didn’t want to leave, not now. Gods not after all that had been said. Not after even more things that had gone unspoken.  And then there was another, smaller part of him that embraced the stillness. A small part that felt his life slip away and simply watched it happen from afar.  </p><p>There would be no prophecies or destinies so great they scared him. No enemies or monsters to slay. No vengeance or betrayal. No obligations or responsibilities. No people to look after.  </p><p>“Stay with me,” someone whispered.  </p><p>He didn’t. </p><p>*** </p><p>The afterlife wasn’t all it had been made out to be either.  </p><p>Arthur woke up on the shore of a lake. </p><p>The first thing he noticed, was the silence. Treetops swayed in the distance, but Arthur couldn’t hear the wind rustling between their leaves. The waves kept quiet as they hit into the shore. Arthur had never really been in tune with nature, but even he could tell there should have been birds chirping or beetles buzzing overhead.  </p><p>When he looked around, the place felt oddly familiar. It’s as if he was staring through a looking glass at a place he’d been to before. And then it wasn’t. Everything seemed out of place, or just out of sight. He’d think he recognised a tree he’d once fell out of or a distinctly shaped rock that had once been a fortress to him and Morgana when they were kids. Or at least that’s what they looked like out of the corner of his eye. When he’d turn towards it for a closer look, the tree looked just like any other tree. The rock became another bland rock.  </p><p>Arthur got up and walked along the shoreline. His boots left tracks in the sand. The tracks should have been deeper, he thought. It should have been harder to walk here in his heavy armour. It wasn’t. He took his boots off and tossed them in the sand. He kept walking, wondering whether or not he’d still be able to feel the sand between his toes.  </p><p>He could.  </p><p>He walked and kept on walking for what felt like an hour, until he saw tracks in the distance. Someone was here! He wasn’t alone! </p><p>Arthur rushed towards the tracks and followed them. His relief in not being alone anymore helped sped up his pace. He pushed forward. Faster. Until he stomped his toe on something heavy, half-buried in the sand.  </p><p>A boot.  </p><p>A boot marked with the crest of Camelot.  </p><p>He cried out in frustration and kicked it, regretting the decision the second his bare foot touched the metal.  </p><p>So being dead didn’t mean you’d no longer feel pain. Good to know.  </p><p>*** </p><p>“You’re not supposed to be here.” </p><p>Arthur spun around the moment he heard the voice behind him and smoothly landed in a battle stance he’d practiced hundreds of times before, ready to face whoever had broken this place’s deafening silence. He’d been walking around for hours and hours without actually getting anywhere. No matter which direction he chose, somehow, he’d always end up back where he began. Running out into the water and swimming until shoulders ached had only ended with him washing back up on the shore. Sprinting towards the forest he’d spotted in the distance hadn’t brought him any closer to the treeline, no matter how long he kept at it. </p><p>The young girl in her white robe standing in front of him eyed him suspiciously. She had to lift her chin up to meet his eyes. Her dark brown hair hung loose on her shoulders. She didn’t look menacing, which meant Arthur was even more on edge. Arthur’s hand twitched when he forced himself not to reach for the sword he knew to be missing from his side. He didn’t want to draw the stranger’s attention to the fact he was unarmed. </p><p>“Couldn’t agree more. You must be the local genius,” He spoke in a clipped voice. </p><p>“You should have passed through the gates.”  </p><p>“I haven’t found any, so if you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction, I’ll just be on my way.”  </p><p>The girl gave him a puzzled look.  </p><p>“You’re not supposed to be here,” she repeated. </p><p>“Yes so you’ve said. And I honestly don’t plan on staying here much longer either. You said something about a gate?” </p><p>She kept quiet. Her gaze dropped down to his bare feet. Arthur resisted the urge to dig his toes in the sand. </p><p>“Gods, would you mind focusing?” he groaned.  “Honestly, I'd rather have Merlin around if I am to be in the company of an idiot!” </p><p>Arthur immediately felt bad for saying it. His servant had hardly been an idiot at all, had he? Not a servant, Arthur corrected himself. A sorcerer. Arthur ended up lost in thoughts and barely noticed the girl had stopped staring at his feet. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly as she took a step closer to get a better look at his face.  </p><p>She was saying something to him, he realised. He focused his attention back on the girl. She licked her lip in what he assumed to be a nervous manner and repeated herself: “How do you know Merlin?” </p><p>“He is,” Arthur paused. “He was my... servant.” It had felt wrong to Arthur to think of Merlin as his servant. Saying it out loud was worse.  </p><p>The woman’s face turned ashen. She took a step back and tilted her head. When she spoke again, Arthur had to lean in to hear the words that were barely more than a whisper. </p><p>“You’re the one who killed me.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur wouldn't mind going back to actually being the only one in this place, he admitted to himself. After the girl had refused to elaborate when she’d declared him a murderer, he’d decided she was, in fact, a halfwit and had left her. The faces of all the people he’d had to kill have haunted him for years, ever since he took someone’s life for the first time. That day, Uther had praised him for it, Arthur remembered. He should have been content with his father’s praise. It should have been enough, and yet, that evening when he went to his chambers, he’d hidden under the covers, fully aware that the man whose life he had taken would be right there to haunt him the moment he had the courage to drift off.  He had been right.  </p><p>He’d remember the girl’s face. Surely, he’d remember her, if it were true. And he didn’t, so Arthur decided she hadn’t told him the truth.  </p><p>He refused to pay her much attention. By now his people would have gotten word of his death. He’d have to hurry if he was going to find a way back to them or they wouldn’t believe it was really him when he did. </p><p>The girl clearly wasn’t going to be of much help, so it was best to steer clear of her and focus on finding a way out of this place. </p><p>As it turned out, evading someone when stuck on a small strip of beach wasn’t as easy as it looked. The King soon found out that, even though he could still eat or sleep, he didn’t need sleep, food or water. He realised this meant he didn’t have to pause his efforts of getting out of here for anything as futile as that. So he didn’t. Arthur tried everything he could think of that might result in him getting out of this place and back to his people. Death, he’d decided, didn’t suit him at all.  </p><p> </p><p>At first, the girl had kept her distance as well. But Arthur was sure she didn’t now. If anything, he could have sworn she knew how awkward he felt around her after the weird accusation and sought him out on purpose. A few days after her revelation, she’d picked up the awful habit of casually strolling out of the bushes Arthur had been trying to reach or coming out of the water just as he dove into it in yet another attempt to swim away.  </p><p>One day, when she casually climbed up on a boulder he’d been trying to get to, Arthur howled in frustration. Seeing she was able to reach the places he couldn’t get to, annoyed him to no end. The fact that she flaunted it, just made him want to throw something at her. Then, he realised, he felt like ordering someone to throw a sharp object <em> his  </em>way for allowing himself to get riled up by a girl on a beach. Some afterlife he’d gotten, he thought, as he resisted the urge to sink down on the sand to sulk for a couple of hours. </p><p>He turned around and strode towards the water line and sat down on the damp sand. He was tired of avoiding the girl. Tired of not seeing the least bit of progress in his attempts to get away. Tired of not having anyone to talk to. She followed him again, he knew, without looking over his shoulder. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before the sound of her rustling robes proved him right. </p><p>Arthur didn’t know what to say to her. He only knew he’d been missing having someone around he could talk to. It had been years since he’d felt this lonely. That had been before Uther had appointed Merlin as his manservant, Arthur thought. Ever since that moment he’d always had someone to confide in. First there was Merlin, then his Knights, his Queen. It had been so long since Arthur had felt alone. And yet here he was. He wished he had someone to talk to. That, more than anything, was the reason he tried to start a conversation with the girl. She had known Merlin. Maybe she’d be able to fill the void, if only for a little while.  </p><p>“I don’t remember.” He sounded agitated. He looked over his shoulder. She’d sunk down on the sand near him.  </p><p>The girl didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him, but rather studied the hands she’d placed in her lap. Even though the sight of the druid tattoo on her arm gave him pause for a moment, Arthur didn’t feel threatened by her anymore. He knew he probably should, but his instincts told her she wasn’t a threat to him. He chose to follow them. She wasn’t going to encourage him to continue talking, he realised. He did so anyways.  </p><p>“The other day, when I met you, you told me I was the one who... ” She looked up at him. The corner of her lip twitched a little. Surely, she couldn’t be <em> amused </em> at him mentioning the day she died? </p><p>He cleared his throat. When he continued, he sounded more uncertain that he’d have liked. “Right, I've obviously had to...  I have killed people during my life. I can’t say I’ve enjoyed it but I have. Most I regret. But when you said you were... Well, I... Are you <em> sure </em> it was me?” </p><p>Okay that was definitely a smirk, he wasn’t imagining this. </p><p>“Ah right, Sire, me and my awful memory. I’m sorry, it was such a trivial thing, too. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” Her eyes twinkled with held in laughter. He couldn’t help but smile at the girl. The way she’d said the word Sire, as if it were an insult, <em> did </em> remind him of Merlin.  </p><p>“I didn’t mean to say it wasn’t important, of course, but – ” </p><p>“Of course you didn’t, Sire.” </p><p>“I didn’t!” </p><p>“That’s what I said. You didn’t.”  </p><p>Did she just <em> wink  </em>at him? Arthur was baffled. He was used to banter, especially around his knights, but most people, especially those he’d only just met, were usually too taken aback by the fact they were talking to royalty to do much asides from stuttering. Well, he’d met one person who challenged him right from the start. Honestly, the only thing missing here, was the girl calling him a prat.  </p><p>Arthur blinked at the grin that spread on the girl’s face.  </p><p>“Tell me something, you say you regret killing people. How <em> honourable </em>. But what about... monsters?” </p><p>“Monsters?” </p><p>“Yes. Ever regret killing any of those?” </p><p>“I’d be lying if I said I have.” </p><p>“Even the ones that weren’t?” </p><p>“Weren’t what?”  </p><p>“Weren’t monsters.” </p><p>“How?” </p><p>“How what?” </p><p>“How could a monster not be a monster?” </p><p>“Because someone created it. Not all monsters are born as one.” </p><p>This gave Arthur pause. He looked at the girl’s face. The twinkle in her eyes was still there, somewhat clouded by old grief. He didn’t speak and waited for her to continue when she was ready. He’d known the type of monster she’d referred to. His father, no matter how much Arthur had loved him, had become one, blinded by his hatred for magic. And in turn, Uther had created the monster that had once been his sister.  </p><p>"I suppose you didn’t actually see me die, although I don’t doubt you’d have finished what you started, if Merlin hadn’t nearly crushed you under a gargoyle.”  </p><p>“He... a what?”</p><p>Arthur frowned as something dawned on him. He remembered a cold night, a gargoyle that had come tumbling off of the castle walls, a giant black beast with wings. Only it hadn’t really been a beast, had it? It had been a... </p><p>He looked at the girl sitting before him, at her dark hair and pale skin. At the tattoo on her arm.  </p><p>“I never knew you died.” </p><p>“I did.” </p><p>“You’re the druid girl.” </p><p>“You can call me Freya.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Freya, Arthur learned, was good company. She was witty and sharp. She couldn’t care less about his crown or status and enjoyed teasing him to no end. It made sense, Arthur thought, since titles hardly mattered after you died.</p><p>They sat together until deep in the night. As soon as he realised she didn't mind talking about her time in Camelot, he’d asked her all about what happened. He, of course, had known some of it. But the extent of Merlin’s involvement as well as his commitment to the girl took him by surprise.  </p><p>“He was going to <em> what?!” </em> </p><p>“He never told you?”  </p><p>“Well he obviously didn’t, did he? I hardly think I’d be surprised if he had.” </p><p>She answered with a crooked smile.  </p><p>“Leaving Camelot. Preposterous,” Arthur huffed. </p><p>“Watch it, Sire, you’re starting to sound a little jealous there. I can’t help being better company than you were. Although I have to admit I would have missed the food. Those royal breakfasts sure were amazing...” </p><p>Arthur sputtered. Freya’s laughter echoed over the water.  </p><p> </p><p>When Arthur woke up the next morning, the only thing left of Freya were her footprints in the sand. He looked around, suddenly afraid he wouldn't find her again. He’d quite enjoyed her company. She’d made him laugh, made him... forget all the things he’d left behind. Even though he refused to admit it, Arthur had enjoyed her breaking this place's deafening silence. He got up and followed the footsteps, hoping to find her before he ended up where he’d started again, just as he always did.  </p><p>When he spotted Freya, she was sitting cross-legged in the sand. She was leaning forward, seemingly enthralled by something. He approached her cautiously. A dim light shone from within the silver bowl he now saw on her lap. The light was reflected in Freya’s eyes, which, in turn seemed to glow a faint blue while she looked down. Arthur moved closer. Sorcery, he thought. The thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. Not anymore. </p><p>She looked sad as she stared into the faintly glowing contents of the bowl. A tear ran down her cheek and fell down. Arthur was close enough to hear the dripping sound it made when it landed in the bowl’s contents. Going by the sound, Arthur assumed there was some sort of liquid in it. He inched closer. He didn’t even notice he was holding his breath when he stretched his neck to be able to look into the bowl.  </p><p>Merlin! He saw... He saw Merlin, only, it didn’t look like the Merlin Arthur remembered. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes had dark circles under them. The angle was off, too. It was as if he was looking up at Merlin, from below. Merlin reached out to Arthur and Freya with both hands. When he pulled his hands back, drops of water fell from them. Or rather, they flew upwards, towards Arthur and Freya. Arthur had the feeling he was looking up at Merlin from the bottom of a bowl or a water bucket. Merlin brought his hands to his face. More water fell from between his fingers, back towards Arthur and Freya. Arthur groaned at the feeling of being robbed of this familiar sight he hadn’t realised he’d wished to see.  </p><p> </p><p>It was at that moment Freya realised Arthur had been towering over her. Her head jolted towards him, her sad eyes now glistened with anger. She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to tell him off, and then she froze. </p><p>“Your eyes!” Freya shrieked.  </p><p>She dropped the bowl she was holding. Water sloshed over the edge, the images now gone.  </p><p>“Was that <em> Merlin </em>?” </p><p>She didn’t reply, she just blinked.  </p><p>“How did you do that, Freya? Tell me!” </p><p>“How did you <em> see </em> that?” She shouted. “You’re not supposed to. Unless you -”  </p><p>“Unless I what?” </p><p>“Arthur?” She tilted her head. “Do you have magic?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! I definitely enjoyed writing it! As always, thank you for being here &amp; let me know what you think in the comments...</p><p>Songs I listened to while writing:<br/>Those Nights -  Bastille<br/>Doom Days - Bastille<br/>Divide - Bastille<br/>The Call - Regina Spektor</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Not my homeland anymore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Show him to me.” Arthur ignored her ridiculous question. Of course he didn’t have magic. “Show me Merlin.” </p><p>“It doesn’t work that way. You broke the connection.” </p><p>“Then unbreak it.” </p><p>“Do it yourself.” </p><p>Freya’s trembling lip contrasted her blunt response. Arthur noticed her red-rimmed eyes. </p><p>“Freya?” He asked cautiously, unsure if he even wanted the answer. “What did you see?”  </p><p>Freya wiped another tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. Her jaw clenched a little. “Sit down.” </p><p>A moment after he did, she got up to fill the bowl with water from the lake. She returned and put it in his lap, careful not to spill any of the water. “I rarely get a chance to see him. The connection only works when the person or place you’re remembering can be seen through water. Your servant needs to bathe more often.” She sounded a bit amused at that. Arthur frowned. </p><p>“How does it work?” Arthur’s hand rested on the side of the bowl, over the intricate markings he hadn’t noticed before. The metal felt warm to the touch even though it shouldn’t.  </p><p>“All water came from Avalon once and it will return there eventually,” Freya explained. “It remembers where it came from and the lake remembers what it’s lost. And so do we. You have to dip the index finger of your right hand in the bowl– no! Wait until I finish telling you the rest... gods!”  </p><p>Arthur took his finger out gingerly and already felt his blood rush to his cheeks. “Well, go on then.”  </p><p>The smile she held back could be heard in her voice when she finished explaining. “You say the name of the person or the place you’re trying to see while tracing circles in the water. You go clockwise, three times. No more, no less.  </p><p>“If they are near a surface of water, you’ll be able to see them in here. It only works if you knew the person you’re trying to see in life or if you pick a place you have been to often. You have to remember it well. I don’t  – I don’t really have anyone but Merlin to look after. Most of the people I knew are long dead. Your father had most of them killed, actually.” </p><p>Even though Arthur knew he should probably apologise or at least acknowledge her loss, he was too impatient for her to continue talking. So he didn’t.  </p><p>“Once the connection is made, you’ll see and hear them. They won’t see you unless they’ve somehow managed to get their hands on some of this.” She gestured towards the lake they sat by. “Time moves faster on the other side so once you lose the connection, you won’t be able to get it back.” </p><p>That gave him pause.  </p><p>“How much faster?” </p><p>She didn’t answer.  </p><p>“I’ve been here almost a week. Are you saying it’s been longer for them?” </p><p>Freya licked her lip in what he’d come to recognise as a nervous habit of hers.  </p><p>“Freya... Tell me.” </p><p>“Do you remember how long it’s been since the day you’ve killed me?” </p><p>Arthur flinched a little at her choice of words. “A little over nine years.” </p><p>When their eyes met, Arthur knew he wouldn’t handle her answer well.  </p><p>“The day we met was my twelfth day here.” </p><p>Arthur froze.  </p><p>His head spun as he tried to process this information. Twelve days. That meant-  It meant they had wasted time. So much precious time. He’d been looking for a way out for what had felt like days, when in reality he’d spent– Arthur couldn’t think straight. Years? Had it been years for Guinevere? His Kingdom?  </p><p>He felt the heavy weight of the silver dish Freya had placed in his lap. His stomach turned and for a brief moment, Arthur worried about spilling his stomach’s contents into the magical device. Freya must have picked up on his queasiness, because she took it from him, careful not to spill the contents.  </p><p>Arthur leaned forward, and placed his head in his hands, his elbows on his thighs. Why wouldn’t his head stop spinning? </p><p>Years. He had been dead... for years.  </p><p>He knew Freya would see the tears in his eyes if he looked up at her, but he realised he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. If Arthur allowed himself the luxury of pulling himself together, he thought, that would only mean more time would be lost. When tried to work out how much of it exactly, another wave of nausea hit him. </p><p>“Show me. Please.” His words were barely more than a whisper.  </p><p> Arthur almost expected Freya to smirk at him, to comment on his very un-regal ways right now, but she didn’t. When their eyes met, Freya shot him a sympathetic look. She had to have gone through this as well, he realised. A little under three weeks ago.  </p><p>When he reached for the bowl, she was already holding it out for him to take. Arthur tried to smile at her in thanks, his hand unsteady when he took it from her.  </p><p><em> Right index finger,</em> he remembered. He put it in the bowl. A person or a place, Freya had told him. Arthur froze for a moment, when he realised he had to choose between the people he’d known. The image of Merlin, looking miserable and even somewhat sickly struck him. Then he thought of Guinevere and felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t been the first person he’d wanted to check up on.  </p><p>“Guinevere. Show me Gwen.” The water in the bowl whirled around slowly, guided by his hand. Before the image shifted, Arthur looked at his reflection. His lips were pressed together so tightly they only formed the thinnest line in his face. A moment before the image of his wife appeared, two red sparks appeared in the water. His eyes were glowing, Arthur realised. The light that came from within them was reflected in the water. They didn’t shine a bright gold as Merlin’s had , nor blue like Freya’s.  </p><p>It was the scarlet Pendragon red.  </p><p>He refused to dwell on it and focused on the image that appeared in the water.  </p><p>Guinevere.  </p><p>When he heard his queen's soft voice, Arthur’s stomach clenched, until only the tightest ball of grief remained. Arthur leaned forward in an attempt to see her. He could only make out her raven black curls near the edge of the bowl. The surface of water he’d channelled was small and too far away from her. When he looked around, Arthur could see the ceiling of their- her chambers. It was as if he was looking up from the bottom of a goblet. In an attempt to overcome his frustration, Arthur focused on what he did have. Her voice. She was talking to someone, a man. The man’s voice was muffled, as if it came from the other side of the room. They were making traveling plans, he realised. They were discussing how many Knights to take with them on their journey to Mercia. </p><p>Gwen continued her conversation with the man. The next time Arthur heard him, his voice was louder, as if he’d moved closer to the goblet.  </p><p>“Do you think we should try asking Merlin again? We could really use some back up.” </p><p><em> Leon,</em> Arthur thought.  </p><p>“He hasn’t spoken to me since last summer. I’d be surprised if he bothered to show.” Guinevere said, her voice somewhat nasal. </p><p>Arthur frowned and leaned closer to the surface. He could see a window, right at the edge of the bowl. He could make out a layer of white on the window sill. Snow. It was snowing. Guinevere tried to stifle a cough. </p><p>“We have to try. If it’s anything like the last time, we’ll need his magic,” Leon said. </p><p>“Gaius said he doesn’t have it anymore.” </p><p>“And you believe him?” </p><p>Another coughing fit followed. Gwen cleared her throat and continued, “He’s always been a loyal friend to us. I have no reason to doubt him. If he says it’s gone, it is.” </p><p>“If you say so, my lady.” </p><p>“I do.” </p><p>She cleared her throat again and moved towards Arthur. The moment Arthur saw his wife’s face, his heart skipped a beat. She looked beautiful as she had the last time he’d seen her. So soft and composed. Her hair was tied back. The royal seal hung around her slender neck. She coughed again and reached out to Arthur. Arthur leaned closer until his nose was inches away from the survace. Guinevere took the cup and downed its contents. Arthur moaned when the connection broke.  </p><p>Freya didn’t break the silence that followed, even though Arthur had expected her to. She stayed perfectly still and allowed him to gather his thoughts. It took him a while. Arthur was aware of the fact that <em> time </em> was the exact thing he didn’t have enough of anymore.  </p><p>He tried to figure out how long it had been. How much time he lost with each second that passed here.  </p><p>When Arthur finally spoke, his voice was gravelly. The lump in his throat grew bigger every second. </p><p>“I need to get back home.” </p><p>“I don’t think you can.” </p><p>That was the moment Arthur found out the dead could, in fact, still get sick.  </p><p> </p><p>Arthur didn’t speak to Freya for hours after he stormed off of the beach. His attempts to get off of the island, as he’d come to think of it, even though he’d never seen much besides his stretch of sand, kept getting more and more frantic as time passed. Time. The idea of time passing had his stomach in knots. Arthur tried to understand how it worked, how much time he had lost, tried to make sense of it all. And failed.  </p><p>When he finally made his way back to where he had left Freya, she was nowhere to be found. He wondered why she had been crying and regretted not asking her. He regretted abandoning her without discussing what had just happened. He regretted ignoring her question earlier.  </p><p>Magic? </p><p>He scoffed. The reflection of his eyes in the lake water must have been an illusion. This whole place had given him nothing but grief ever since he’d arrived here. The scenery wasn’t what it looked like. Time didn’t pass the way it should. And his eyes...  </p><p>Arthur refused to believe it. He didn’t have magic. Then again, he never had been dead before either.  </p><p> </p><p>The sun had set long before Arthur finally found the young druid again. Freya had made a small fire on the beach, undoubtedly to make it easier for him to find her.. She hadn’t made one in the days since he’d first seen her. He would have known.  </p><p>“Figured you’d come back.” </p><p>“I did,” Arthur said.  </p><p>“I see.” </p><p>Arthur knew his face betrayed his frustration. He kept quiet.  </p><p>“I suppose I owe you an apology,” she continued. “I assumed you knew time passes faster for them than it does here.” </p><p>“How would I?” </p><p>She shrugged.  </p><p>“How do <em> you </em> even know these things? You've only been dead for...” </p><p>Arthur was almost relieved when he saw the twitch in the corner of her mouth. He revelled in the normalcy her light-hearted ways brought. Her humour would take some getting used to, Arthur thought, before immediately pushing the thought out of his mind. He wasn’t going to get used to her. He needed to find a way out. Soon.  </p><p>“What are you?” Arthur realised it had come out harsher than he’d intended, but again she didn’t seem to mind.  </p><p>“I’m a Keeper.” </p><p>He raised a brow when she didn’t continue. Freya quickly caught on.  </p><p>“Keepers are protectors of magical creatures or places. Whenever one dies or is given the opportunity to choose a successor, another takes their place. When I got here, the last Keeper of the Lake figured he might as well pass on the title and chose to go through the gates in my stead. I didn’t get much of a say in it.” The last part seemed to amuse her.  </p><p>Athur was too busy wondering what sound he could make that would make it seem like he understood a word of what she’d just said, to realise she had stopped talking. Then, he remembered something. Something that had happened a long time ago. A journey from Camelot to Gedref, in an attempt to atone for when he’d killed a unicorn. </p><p>“Anhora!” Arthur’s voice echoed into the silent night. “I’ve met a Keeper once. His name was Anhora. So what are you... Keeping?” </p><p>“The gates of Avalon. The portal from this realm to the next.” She pointed towards a clearing a little off the beach. Arthur had been trying to reach the place, just like he had so many others, and hadn’t been able to get there either.  </p><p>“You can’t see them, can you?” she asked. </p><p>He shook his head.  </p><p>“I figured.” </p><p>“Care to explain?” He didn’t bother to hide his frustration. At least this time, she had the decency not to smirk. </p><p>“Every soul passes through here when it’s time to move on. Some can’t. I can see them, but they don’t see me. You... You’re different.” </p><p>She gestured towards Arthur.  </p><p>“I’m stuck here, aren’t I?” </p><p>“I’m afraid so, yes.” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>When Freya couldn’t answer the question, Arthur tried to hide his frustration. He had no doubt she saw right through his polite façade, but couldn’t manage to do anything more.  </p><p>“Why were you crying, earlier?” he asked after a while.  </p><p>“Merlin.” </p><p>His stomach clenched.  </p><p>“Can you show him to me?” </p><p> </p><p>When Freya and Arthur summoned the image of Merlin into the enchanted bowl, he couldn’t quite focus on his servant’s face. It was as if the water in the bowl was bubbling, causing the skin to ripple. Arthur felt a little seasick.  </p><p>“It’s raining,” Freya explained. “That’s usually a good thing. Means the connection won’t be broken as easily.”  </p><p>Arthur tried to focus. He could barely make out Merlin’s face, since the image kept shifting, when he looked through the raindrops that fell on his servant’s shoulders. In the background, he saw small cottages surrounding him. A field with crops ready to harvest. Arthur heard the sound of birds in the trees in the distance. The sounds they made seemed alien after having been in this void for so long.  Merlin wasn't in Camelot, Arthur realised. And he wasn’t alone.  </p><p>Next to Merlin, an old man leaned heavily on a staff. Athur was shocked to recognise Gaius. The court physician had aged remarkably since Arthur had last seen him. Merlin, on the other hand, hadn’t changed much. The lines in his face were pulled tighter, his eyes had dulled, but he hadn’t aged a day. Merlin looked the same as he had a week ago. <em> Years,</em> Arthur thought. <em>  It’s been years, not weeks.   </em> </p><p>“It's starting,” Arthur heard Merlin explain to Gaius as he lead the man towards a group of people that had gathered in a clearing just outside the village. Merlin’s hand was wrapped around Gaius’ arm. The man’s eyesight was apparently so bad he needed Merlin to guide the way. “They’re lighting the fire soon,” Merlin said. </p><p>Not long after that, Arthur smelled the smoke of wet wood, and something else... Ritual herbs. A funeral pyre.  </p><p>He looked around and when he recognised his surroundings, his heart sank. Ealdor. They were at a funeral. In Ealdor. Arthur searched the crowd around Merlin and Gaius. He looked for a familiar face, and when he’d finished studying everyone’s features a second time without finding the gentle features of the woman he was looking for, Arthur finally turned his attention towards the funeral pyre.  </p><p><em> Hunith</em>, he thought.   <em> Oh gods, Merlin, I’m so sorry.  </em> </p><p>The pyre didn’t ignite right away, Arthur noticed. He could hear the muffled words of the people standing around it when they threw more torches onto the wet wood. The rain had picked up. Arthur hadn’t noticed. He’d only had eyes for Merlin. </p><p>Merlin looked at the pyre, hurt shone clearly in his eyes. He raised a hand and said, “<em> Forbaernan </em>”. Arthur sucked in a breath when Merlin’s eyes changed colour. The golden irises seemed to have dulled since the last time Arthur had seen them. Something inside of him reacted to the change. He let out a soft moan as something pulled him closer to the surface. Arthur saw his own eyes reflect a brighter scarlet in the lake water.  </p><p>Merlin’s face dropped. The wet wood let out a pathetic hiss as it refused to burn properly. Through the raindrops, Arthur could barely discern Merlin’s face. All he could make out were his slumped shoulders, his bowed down head. He wasn’t sobbing. He didn’t show a sign of distress. The silent resignation felt worse, somehow. </p><p>Arthur’s heart ached for his friend. He placed his hand on the side of the bowl and before he even realised what he was doing, Arthur echoed Merlin’s spell. “<em> Forbaernan </em> <em> ”.  </em> </p><p>Merlin didn't move when the flames finally picked up and devoured his mother. Arthur ignored Freya’s warning and tried to reach for Merlin, through the bowl.  </p><p>Freya hissed at him when the connection broke.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t look at her. He kept looking down into the lake water. The image of Merlin now long gone.  </p><p>“I took it, didn’t I?” </p><p>Freya’s answer was barely more than a whisper.  </p><p>“Yes. I think that’s what’s keeping you from moving on. As long as Merlin lives, his magic will try to find its way back home.” </p><p>“Help me get it back to him, Freya. I have to... I have to fix this, somehow. Please.” </p><p>She nodded.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The support I have received from people here and on Tumblr has been so wonderful. Thank you!<br/>Let me know what you feel, like, dislike, ... Or come find me on Tumblr (@shut-up-merlin) for a chat! </p><p>Songs:<br/>- Exile by Taylor Swift<br/>- Not Today by Imagine Dragons<br/>- Already gone - Sleeping at Last</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. So what am I defending now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur paced the beach just as he had for the past half hour. Right after Freya had left him, he’d screamed until his voice cracked. Arthur felt so powerless. Although powerless might not exactly be the right word to describe him right now, he thought. He felt Merlin’s magic course through him, the roaring waves of magic fuelled by his anger. Since Freya had left, storm clouds had gathered overhead, the morning skies had grown thicker with every cloud rolling in. He could feel the silent threat of the electricity in the air, saw his crimson eyes reflect in the murky lake water. It was his doing, he knew. And even if he’d wanted to stop it, Arthur wasn’t sure he’d know how.  </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Their day had started out the same way it had for weeks now.  </p><p>“I am not throwing rocks at you again!” Freya didn't even bother to lift her head, let alone open her eyes.   </p><p>Arthur chuckled when he noticed her sprawled out position on a large rock near the water. Sometimes she really did remind him of the giant feline she had once been.  </p><p>“Oh come on, you know you want to!” Arthur shouted back. </p><p>“You’re not wrong, Sire!”  </p><p>He grinned at her, knowing full well she didn’t need much convincing after that.  Even though he enjoyed training with her, Arthur was grateful for Freya’s terrible aim. For every sharp-edged rock that hit him, five landed nowhere near him. It took him long enough to master the magical shields as it was, so he really didn’t mind being spared another cut or bruise every now and then. </p><p>They had fallen into something of a routine pretty quickly after Freya had agreed to help Arthur find a way to give Merlin his magic back. They figured that, if Arthur could somehow find a way to break through the enchantments keeping him locked in here, he’d be able to send Merlin’s magic back to its rightful owner. Arthur secretly hoped that would mean he’d be able to return along with Merlin’s magic, rather than finally move through the gates, and even though he suspected Freya shared his hopes, she never told him.  </p><p>So they decided Arthur had to master the magic he’d have to use to get through the barriers.</p><p>In the mornings, they trained.  </p><p>They soon found out the subtle ways of magic were utterly lost on the king. Freya had tried to teach Arthur some enchantments. When Arthur tried to cast the spell Freya had claimed would allow him to conjure up a rose out of thin air, all he’d gotten were a bunch of thorns in his palms. After what felt like a hundred tries, the only thing he'd conjured was a puddle of his own blood. At some point Freya had insinuated Arthur wasn’t even trying at all anymore and Arthur had felt raw anger shoot trough him.  </p><p>And magic, too.  </p><p>That’s when the puddle of blood had crystalized and shards had flung in all directions, exploding whenever they hit a surface.  After Freya was done bandaging up the cuts in Arthur’s brow, she decided they would focus on combat enhancements from now on. </p><p>She didn’t know many. The people Freya had grown up with had made an effort not to get involved in wars. The spells she did know, she taught Arthur. Even though they never agreed on whether it was Arthur’s natural talents or Freya’s amazing teaching skills, they did see eye to eye when it came to Arthur’s progress. He’d shown little to no skill when they had just started his training, but as soon as he had the opportunity to blow something up or to send Freya flying, he did so with little effort. The feeling of power that came over Arthur each time he wielded Merlin's magic had scared him at first. The fear had soon been replaced with excitement and an eagerness to learn that Arthur hadn’t felt since the first time he’d been allowed to train with Camelot’s finest.  </p><p> </p><p>After each training session, they walked the shore line together. Arthur always tried to reach a place he hadn’t been able to get to before. He’d try to reach a rock, swim out into the water or climb a tree. When that didn’t work, he’d try to shatter the rock for its audacity to stay out of his reach. That is when they learned Merlin’s magic could reach just a little farther than Arthur could.   </p><p>During their walks they talked about Arthur’s life. His tales of royal mishaps delighted Freya to no end. She always seemed to try to draw their conversations out, under the guise of asking for more details. It made sense to Arthur, because right after their walks, they’d always head back to the silver scrying bowl. There, they would always be faced with the harsh reality that the people Arthur spoke about had long since moved on, that the places he described to her had started to change with each passing season. </p><p>And yet their walks always ended when they halted by the bowl.  </p><p>Even though neither of them could really stomach what they were shown whenever they chose to watch Merlin, they found themselves calling out his name the most. Merlin didn’t take care of himself, and Freya and Arthur both hated every second they saw him this way. The images that came through, had gotten more and more grim each time they looked. They had been surprised to see everyone around him age at first, but Freya assumed some of Merlin’s magic still lingered within him, keeping him young. His eyes didn’t though. They had become those of an old man who’d seen too much, the mischievous twinkle in them only a distant memory. </p><p>Merlin's silent resignation had gotten worse after leaving Camelot. They'd watched his gaunt figure walk out of the gates of Camelot. Had held onto each other when they noticed his dull eyes and cracked lips.  </p><p>Every day, Arthur shouted at Merlin until his throat hurt.  </p><p>Every day, Freya told him the screams would never be heard.  </p><p>Together they watched Arthur’s best friend suffer. They stood by, unable to reach him, while Merlin alienated himself from the people he’d once called his friends. Seeing the miserable state the sorcerer was in, left them raw inside. Arthur wished Merlin had moved on, just as his people had. </p><p>Just as his queen had. </p><p>Arthur had found it hard to see Guinevere with someone new at first. The training that had followed the first time Arthur had had to listen to her and Leon in <em> his </em> bed had been brutal. He’d almost blown Freya to pieces. She had told him it would take much, much more to actually hurt a Keeper, but Arthur had seen her limp afterwards. He’d felt sorry for her. Although, he had to admit, not as sorry as he felt for himself.  </p><p> </p><p>This morning he’d said Merlin’s name first and had been rewarded with a near heart attack when a moment later, Merlin appeared to look right into his eyes. He leaned closer to the water. He felt Freya doing the same next to him. Merlin didn’t look well, Arthur thought. But then again, when was the last time he had?  </p><p>Somehow Merlin’s dishevelled look upset Arthur more than the last time they’d watched him. His eyes slid over Merlin's unkempt hair, his dirty clothes. Arthur hadn’t thought it was possible, but his friend looked even thinner than he had before, barely more than skin and bones now. The bony hand that reached up to touch Merlin’s cheekbones trembled. Merlin’s breathing was off, too, Arthur thought.  </p><p>“Breathe Merlin,” he mumbled. “Please.” </p><p>He felt Freya’s hand clasping his, entirely unsure if the touch was meant to comfort Arthur or if she needed the same from him. The silence around them grew thicker with each passing moment. Neither of them spoke while Merlin worked through the panic attack.  </p><p>Merlin was the first to break the silence.  </p><p>“If I can’t use magic what have I got?” Arthur heard a voice he barely recognised as Merlin’s. Merlin cleared his throat and continued. </p><p>“I’m just a nobody and I always will be.” </p><p>Tears stung behind Arthur’s eyes when he saw Merlin’s eyes water. He wanted to reach out to him, but Freya’s surprisingly strong grip kept him from accidentally breaking the connection. </p><p>He wished she hadn’t, when he heard Merlin’s next words. </p><p>“If I can’t use magic, I might as well die.” </p><p>“No!” Freya cried. Her finger nails dug into Arthur’s palm. He let them. The rest of his body felt cold and numb, so the sharp sting was more than welcome.  </p><p> </p><p>Things had moved quickly after that. Freya hadn’t panicked. She’d remained calm when she told Arthur they had to do something, anything, to keep Merlin from hurting himself. If Merlin died without getting his magic back, she’d explained, he wouldn’t be able to pass through the gates, just as Arthur hadn’t been able to pass through them with it.  </p><p>“So he’ll be here then? With me... us, I mean?” It sounded hopeful. </p><p>Freya shook her head. “Not <em>with </em>you.” </p><p>Freya raised her hand and mumbled words in a language Arthur didn’t understand. Her eyes flashed blue and behind her, it looked as if a veil was lifted. Arthur saw... people. Hundreds of them, just shaffling around on what Arthur had come to think of as –his – beach. Like him, they were just … there. Alone.  </p><p>Stuck.  </p><p>Freya lowered her arm. The images disappeared.  </p><p>“So that’s what you’re keeping. You guard the dead.” </p><p>“Not all of them, the ones who can’t move on.” </p><p>“Like me,” Arthur sighed. </p><p>“Like you. Although I don’t think you were ever meant to end up here.” </p><p>“He can’t become one of them– one of us," Arthur corrected himself.</p><p>They’d crouched over the bowl after that, unwilling to miss a moment. They checked in on Merlin as often as they could, simply forming and breaking the connection, worried that if they stayed with him for too long, he’d be gone, the next time they tried.  </p><p>Less than an hour ago, Merlin had appeared in the silver dish again.  “Avalon,” Freya hissed. Arthur didn’t ask her to explain. He tore his face from the bowl and looked out over the water.  </p><p>“He’s here.” Arthur knew it. He felt it. The magic inside of him yearned for Merlin, wanted to be reunited with him.  </p><p>Freya didn’t answer but simply got up and ran into the water. She dove under and never resurfaced. </p><p>No matter how many times Arthur tried to follow her, he always washed back up on the shore.  </p><p> </p><p> ***</p><p> </p><p>Arthur had been about ready to murder someone by the time Freya returned. His foul mood was echoed by his surroundings. Arthur refused to be bothered when he saw Ferya’s shudder when she rose from the water. Good. <em> She </em> could be uncomfortable for a while now, too.  </p><p>She’d left him here to do nothing but wait. Wait and stare through that ridiculous piece of silverware as she spent time with his... Gods, he needed something other to call the man. Manservant didn’t quite cut it anymore.  </p><p>Arthur shot daggers at her as she walked up to him. How on earth was she that slow? He refused to run up to her, even though his legs ached to just dash towards Freya. His body trembled with how taut his muscles were pulled, just from keeping himself from running into the water she was wading through.  </p><p>Even though he was fully aware of how petty he was being, Arthur didn’t move. She had left him here and he was going to stay put.  </p><p>“And?” he heard his voice ring out over the water without even realising he had called out to her. So much for making her come to him.  He’d watched them of course, but for whatever ridiculous reason Freya had come up with, she’d kept so far from the lake that Arthur had barely been able to hear their voices, unable to understand a word they’d said to each other. Selfish little witch. Arthur’s jaw flexed. The thunderclouds overhead mirrored his rage.  </p><p>“I didn’t have much time,” he heard her say. “I hope it was enough.” </p><p>Bile rose in Arthur’s throat. “You... hope!?” he sputtered. “Freya that’s Merlin you’re talking about. Hope isn’t good enough.” Lightning filled the skies. Arthur barely noticed.  Not a single thing penetrated the numbness that had spread throughout his body, not until her small hand slid in his. She felt her squeeze it. Felt how she tried to get him to focus on her.  </p><p>“You should have told him,” he said, completely aware of what she’d reply, this ridiculous sorceress with her absurd theories.  </p><p>Freya said something Arthur didn’t register.  He nodded, hoping a nod was the right response to whatever she’d said. Damn her. Damn all of this. Damn this mess and damn his uselessness. Damn this place and damn the magic he’d stolen. Damn her for holding onto his hand when all he wanted to do was run away. Damn it.  </p><p>Just... Damn it all.  </p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p> </p><p>Merlin often thought of going back to the lake, to see Freya again.  </p><p>He never did. As much as he wanted to see his friend again, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to that godforsaken place. He couldn’t.  </p><p>The nights they’d talked about trying to find a way to get his magic back, Merlin had found something resembling a purpose. If, somehow, he was able to get it back, he might even be able to bring Arthur back, he sometimes thought, before Dragoon’s howls of laughter invaded his mind.  </p><p>Merlin stayed in Albion for a couple of centuries before finally deciding the time had come for him to leave. In the time since the battle of Camlann, Merlin had sought out everyone he knew who had magic, in the hopes of finding someone who could help him restore his.  </p><p> </p><p>The druids had turned him away, claiming they weren’t allowed to interfere with destiny. Merlin stayed with them for a lifetime or two, and not a day passed where he didn’t try to change their minds.  </p><p>The priestesses of the Old Religion he’d come across every now and then, had also refused to help him, no matter how much he begged. Merlin couldn’t pretend this surprised him in the slightest. He did, however, leave every single one of them with a proper goodbye. Friendly would be stretching it, but Merlin liked to think that he’d managed to rebuild a bit of the trust that had been lost between them.  </p><p>At some point, Merlin even went to look for Anhora, the keeper of Unicorns. He’d witnessed with his own eyes how a Unicorn had been brought back to life. Maybe the same could be done for Merlin’s magic. Or, even better, for his King. Merlin never managed to find Anhora, not even in the maze of Gedref. When Merlin finally found the maze’s exit, he’d half expected to smell the salty ocean air. He didn’t. He ended up in the forest where he’d begun.  </p><p>Every couple of years, Merlin would call out Kilgharrah’s name. The dragon, of course, never offered much help at all. He’d throw around a couple of cryptic phrases about destiny and sides of a coin, before flying off into the distance.  </p><p>And then, one year, even Kilgharrah didn’t answer Merlin’s calls anymore. Whether it was because the dragon had finally had enough of Merlin’s pleas for help, or because his long life had ended after all, Merlin never found out.  </p><p> </p><p>Merlin returned to Camelot after that, only to find the place in ruins, all but overgrown after centuries of neglect. Merlin stayed close to the castle without ever setting foot in what once used to be his home. It wasn’t anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. The memories he’d once had were long gone, he realised. People’s faces nothing but a blur, their voices a muddled echo in the back of his mind. Merlin couldn’t remember them and wasn’t even sure he’d want to if he could. The one face that stayed with him the longest, was that of a fair-haired man, whose blue eyes stared right through Merlin’s soul, until one day, that too was gone.    </p><p>He’d heard stories of cultures in the Far East where people and dragons lived together in peace, and had decided to try his luck there.  </p><p>Someone, Merlin thought, must have heard of ways to restore magic there.  </p><p>They had to. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go again! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter. The next one should be up next weekend, as usual, although... I am getting married next Saturday (yay!) so real life is very likely to interfere with my posting schedule. I'll try not to let it! </p><p>This chapter's title song is Exile by Taylor Swift.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Leaving out the side door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During the weeks that followed, they watched over the people Arthur had loved, in between their attempts to get Arthur back to them. Arthur's attempts only got more and more desperate, as they watched his friends live out their lives, watched them grow old and finally watched as they, too passed through the veil, until the only one who remained was Merlin.  </p><p>Always Merlin. </p><p><em>Whatever Freya had told Merlin, it had worked</em>, Arthur often thought. Arthur and Freya spent years watching over Merlin. Somehow, their friend mustered the strength to keep going during what, to Merlin at least, must have been centuries. Merlin never gave up, and neither did Arthur.   </p><p>When Merlin crossed the ocean, they weren’t able to see much of him anymore, the visions too distorted. Whether it was because of the distance or simply because of how Avalon’s waters had gotten mixed with the salt of the ocean, neither of them knew. They tried every day, if only for the reassurance of seeing glimpses of his unchanging face. </p><p>Every day blurred into the next. Years passed for Arthur and Freya, each almost an exact copy of the one before, until one day, it wasn’t. </p><p>***</p><p>Arthur wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his worn shirt. He had just been about to finish his afternoon training. His day had begun with a couple of hours perfecting battle stances and he had followed that exhausting training up with a few more rounds of target practise.  </p><p>Arthur had gotten skilled at wielding his magic. He often wished his former servant could see him. He liked to think Merlin would be proud of him. Would cheer him on as he blew holes in the sand surrounding him, sending pebbles flying in all directions. They’d long since run out of boulders for him to blow up.  </p><p>One more, Arthur thought. He raised his hands and suppressed a shudder when he felt Merlin’s magic crawl up his spine. His palms almost touched. Electricity cackled between them. Arthur flung his arms forward and flicked his wrists, opening up the space between his palms. When he released the energy that had built up, Arthur couldn’t help but grin. He ran over to inspect the result of the impact. The sand before him had crystalized into intricately twisted glass wonders. He had just picked one up to study it, when the ground beneath his feet started to tremble. Arthur almost lost his balance. Almost.  </p><p>When the ground he stood on started to shake, Arthur’s first instinct was to go look for Freya. He ran to the place he’d last seen her, calling out her name. Cracks appeared beneath his feet, the sand and pebbles on the lake side started to slide down. Arthur jumped over a fissure and forced himself to go faster. </p><p>“Freya!” </p><p>Nothing. He ran faster. </p><p>“Freya!” </p><p>Arthur almost tripped when another fissure appeared. He jumped over it and ran towards the forest in the distance, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to reach it. He just knew he had to get off of the beach. Now.  </p><p>When he wrapped his fingers around a thick branch, Arthur froze. He’d never been able to reach this place, had never been able to get this far. In the five years since he’d stranded on the shores by the gates of Avalon, he’d never made it here.  </p><p>He’d tried to reach new places every day. And never had.  </p><p>The thought was quickly shoved to the back of his mind, when his friend’s panicked screech ripped through him. He’d heard her laugh, he’d seen her cry, they’d teased each other to no end and they’d had hushed conversations in the dark comfort of the night. But he had never heard anything as horrifying as this, not from her. Blind panic took over and Arthur forced his way through the thicket, in an attempt to get closer to her.  </p><p>When he saw Freya, blind terror took over. She clung onto a branch in order to keep herself from falling in a deep black crevice that had appeared under her feet. The tree hung over the fissure, its roots cracking under gravity’s pull. Freya’s frail figure was the only reason the branch hadn’t broken off yet, but Arthur could already see it bend under the added weight. He ran towards the edge of the chasm, refusing to look down. That’s when Freya saw him. </p><p>“No, Arthur, run! Get out of here!” </p><p>“Not without you!” </p><p>“You’re an idiot!” </p><p>“And you’re the only friend I have left!”  </p><p>He couldn’t tell from this distance but Arthur could have sworn she rolled her eyes at that.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t waste any more time convincing her he wasn’t going to leave her to fend for herself, but decided to show it to her instead. He looked for a place where he could cross the fissure without falling in and jumped. Freya had often mocked him for continuing his physical training along with the magical one over the past five years. He made a mental note to remind her she owed him an apology after getting her to safety.  </p><p>After crossing the chasm, Arthur ran back towards where he’d left Freya. The branch she was holding onto had dropped lower. Judging by the panic in her eyes, she’d noticed it, too. Freya started to say something to Arthur, who was now standing next to the tree trunk. Her words were drowned out by the sound of the branch tearing off. Arthur saw her mouth open. She was screaming, he realised, when the sound hit him at the same time the splinters flying from the tree did.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t have time to think. He didn’t think, period. He just stretched his arms out and shouted. He watched Freya fall, saw how her frail arms still wrapped around the branch that had detached itself and... saw her land on the shimmering red force field he’d created.  </p><p>Freya rolled over, pushed herself up on her feet and stumbled towards him in a daze, her movements a little wobbly and unsure until raw adrenaline took over. She ran over the force field Arthur had created, into his arms. He reacted on instinct, pulling the girl back to safety the second she crashed into his chest. He didn’t let go and half carried her away from the chasm. They didn’t look back when they heard the rest of the tree topple over. When the tree hit the force field, Arthur felt it break. He never heard the thud he expected when the tree hit the bottom of the chasm. He refused to stand still and think about what that meant.  </p><p>Arthur pulled Freya away from the chasm that almost took her from him. They kept going, while more cracks appeared beneath their feet.  </p><p>“Where are... we going?” Arthur panted. </p><p>“The lake. We have to... We have to get out of here.” </p><p>“Let’s get you to the shore, then.” </p><p>She looked at him, pain in her eyes. He tried to offer her a convincing smile. They had tried to find a way for Arthur to get off of this island every day for over five years now. There was no way he’d join her when she swam off. He’d be left in this crumbling afterlife. He knew but refused to care, choosing to focus on getting Freya to safety instead.  </p><p>When they reached the shore, the usually quiet waters were a menacing black. Arthur hesitated. He’d never been to this part of the island before. </p><p>“Come on,” Freya tugged at Arthur’s arm, urging him forward, “something is tearing this place apart. We have to go.” </p><p>Arthur shouldn’t have been able to follow Freya. He had tried so many times before. It never worked. Not once.  </p><p>And yet now, when it looked as if everything around him came crumbling down, or maybe because of it, he managed to tear himself loose from the magic that kept him stranded here for so long. He felt the binds break. He felt how tendrils of magic stretched out from his godforsaken patch of beach, as if to try and keep him put. And he left them behind. Left it all behind as he dove down into the lake, deeper and deeper, with only Freya’s hand to guide him through the darkness.  </p><p>*** </p><p>When Merlin opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. He blinked a couple of times, the light in the room so bright he felt as if his eyes were going to melt out of their sockets. When Merlin tried to lift his hand to rub his teary eyes, he noticed the arm was stuck under the body of the person lying next to him. A groan came from behind the long dark hair. Merlin pushed the hair away, so he could get a glimpse of his bedpartner’s face. He saw full lips and traces of smudged eye make-up. Black. </p><p>Merlin’s eyes wandered further down. A man. Alright. He could have sworn he’d gone home with a petite brunette the night before. But then again that could have also been a week ago.  </p><p>An arm curled around Merlin’s waist from behind. Long acrylic fingernails scratching at his side.  </p><p><em>Right. That’s the brunette,</em> Merlin thought, <em>Water. I need water.  </em></p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Or more of whatever it was you were on last night, you worthless piece of shit. At least </em>they <em>look like they enjoyed having you around. Guess you’re better company than I give you credit for.  </em></p>
</blockquote><p>Dragoon was there. Of course he was. He never really went away. Had been the one constant in Merlin’s fifteen centuries worth of  self-loathing. The voice never left him, a constant reminder of things Merlin wished he’d be able to forget ever happened.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Would you like for me to leave, Merlin? Would you? Now how rude. I’d like to consider us friends. Mates. Buddies. I’m probably the only one you have, too. Come to think of it, that might not even be true. These two certainly look... friendly.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin groaned and pulled his hand out from under the man next to him. He pressed his palm in the space between his eyes. When that didn’t drown the voice out, he crawled out from under the covers, trying not to touch any of the limbs sprawled over his body any more than necessary. The brunette moaned a little, her bright red fingernails dug a little deeper into Merlin’s flesh. Merlin held his breath until it became clear she wasn’t waking up any time soon and continued his attempt to make his way out of the bed. When he did, he looked around. The room he was in was cramped. Specks of dust twirled around in the light streaming in through the window. There weren't any curtains. The sheets on the bed he'd just climbed out of, looked dirty and Merlin could make out stains on them that made him wish he hadn't given them a closer look. Merlin scurried around the room to gather his belongings. It wasn’t much. A pair of boxers with holes in them, faded jeans and an old stained T-shirt that hung loosely around his thin shoulders.  </p><p>While he was putting on his second sneaker, the man on the bed opened an eye. It was blood-shot, giving Merlin the impression that the man on the bed was no better off than he. “Leaving so soon, love?” the man mumbled. “Shame.” Merlin didn’t even try to make up an excuse. He shrugged and nodded.  </p><p>“Yeah. Time to go. I er... Thanks for last night?” It sounded like a question. The man didn’t answer. Merlin doubted either of them remembered whether or not the night before was something to thank the other for. Merlin shrugged again and pulled his sneaker over his heel.  </p><p>The man turned around, as surprised as Merlin had been, to find the brunette lying next to him. He put his hand on her breast, Merlin all but forgotten.  </p><p>Merlin left quietly.  </p><p>When he walked out onto the street, the sun was already high up in the sky. He looked around, his arm shielding his sensitive eyes from most of the direct sunlight. Merlin looked around in wonder. He’d half expected to see the streets of Paris again.  </p><p>It had been Paris though, right?  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>It was and now it isn’t. Guess you were high as fuck when you left the city of lights, weren’t you Merlin? Can’t even remember where you are. Bet you won’t even get the country right on the first try.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin shook his head, trying to drown the voice out. He looked around and realised the voice had been right. He didn’t know where he was. The streets looked unfamiliar. The tall buildings around him even more so. Gods, the pounding in his head was awful. A loud honking sound nearly made his skull crack open. It wasn’t until he nearly passed out from the sound, that Merlin realised that the sound came from the red bus that was about to run him over.  </p><p>He jumped to the side and stumbled onto the sidewalk. Red... bus?  </p><p>Merlin tried to focus on the people around him, giving him bewildered looks. They were speaking English, weren’t they? It had been so long since he’d heard the accent. Albion. He was back in Albion.  </p><p>Fuck. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one's a bit later than usual! As some of you might know, I got married last Saturday!  (yay!) So I didn't really get around to posting this. </p><p>Title song: Exile by Taylor Swift!</p><p>We're finally getting there, guys! I told you this was going to be a slow build... ^^<br/>Let me know what you think. Comments are always appreciated! </p><p>There might be more questions than answers for a while, but I promise you the next chapter will be something I know you've been waiting for!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Unburn the ashes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> I can do this,  </em> Merlin thought to himself.  <em> I don’t mind being here. I don’t.  </em> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Keep saying it. Just once or twice every five minutes. You’ll believe yourself in no time.</em>  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin walked around in a daze. Even though the morning sun still felt far too bright for his eyes, Merlin really wasn’t dressed for the crisp spring air that bit through the worn fabric of his t-shirt. He drifted along the crowd he’d found himself in, rather enjoying the gentle push of the masses which allowed him to go in whichever direction they went without having to make any decisions himself. The sounds of the organised chaos around Merlin slowly drowned out the pounding between his ears. The city streets around him grew wider and wider the farther he went. The building around Merlin rose up higher, more sleek black cabs filled the streets he walked by and the excitement in the voices of the people surrounding him even put a slight bounce in Merlin’s step.  </p><p>When he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window of one of the shops he walked by, Merlin winked at the slim man with the scruffy beard who looked back at him. He couldn’t explain the jittery feeling in his chest. He barely recognised it. But there it was. A small and unfamiliar flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.  </p><p>Merlin kept walking, content with being just another anonymous face in the crowd, until he found himself at a standstill. The amount of people surrounding him had tripled. He looked up at the giant billboards overhead, that hung against the sides of tall and majestic buildings, until his eyes fell on a small black and white street sign.  </p><p><strong>Picadilly Circus, City of Westminster</strong> </p><p>London.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur’s lungs burned. Every single cell in his body screamed for oxygen. He kept kicking at the water, the idea of which way was up or down, long gone. The darkness surrounding him seemed to grow thicker by the second. Arthur couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. Couldn’t feel anything but the cold sinking into his bones. No, he thought, that’s not true. He felt one more thing.  </p><p>He felt a small hand in his and held on tightly. Whatever happened, whatever he did, he refused to let go of that hand. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.  </p><p>He held on tightly as he felt her tug at his arm. Whether she pulled him up or farther down, he didn’t know. The only thing he knew was that he couldn't let go.  </p><p>Not again.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin walked into a small coffee shop near Regent Street, a white box under his arm. When he saw the cash only sign, Merlin cursed under his breath. He only had euros in his wallet. But he did need an espresso. Or five.  </p><p>When the lady at the till took his money without a fuss, he finally relaxed a little. This morning had been strange, to say the least. He’d felt numb and disoriented thanks to the night before, but at the same time, there had been something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d felt restless. Energetic even. And he hadn’t even had a cup of coffee.  </p><p>When his triple espresso arrived, Merlin wrinkled his nose. He hoped it tasted better than it smelled. </p><p><em> I’m too old to drink shit coffee, </em> Merlin thought to himself, before opening the white box. </p><p>He ran his fingers over the back of his new iPhone 11 Pro and started to set up his device. I should get lost in foreign countries more often, Merlin thought, excited about the prospect of discovering the promised triple-camera system.  </p><p>But first things first. He’d seen today’s date on one of the billboards at Picadilly Circus. He had some serious grovelling to do.  </p><p> </p><p>“Bonjour Nadine,” Merlin said, his French as fluent as that of the native speakers he’d surrounded himself with the last few decades, “I need you to help me get settled somewhere new and send my laptop over so I can write you a decent apology.” </p><p>“Where did you run off to this time?” the woman on the other end of the line snapped. Merlin could picture the scowl on her face without much trouble. He’d seen it often enough. The petite redhead usually aimed it at him, too. He sighed.  </p><p>“I’m in London.” </p><p>“You...” She groaned something that sounded a lot like <em> artistes de  </em> <em> merde </em>, before continuing, “How long are you planning on staying there?” </p><p>“I...” Merlin hesitated. Earlier that morning, when he’d tried to figure out where he could buy a new phone, he’d planned on using it to get Nadine to book him a seat on the first Eurostar out of the country. Now, he wasn’t as sure that was what he wanted anymore. </p><p>“For a while.” </p><p>She huffed. </p><p>“Just book me a studio somewhere. I’ll make up for lost time... If you tell me how much of it I’ve lost, that is.” </p><p>“Don’t tell me you’ve gone on another one of your benders.” </p><p>“Then don’t ask.” </p><p>She snorted. “Fine. You were supposed to send the producers an early draft two weeks ago, before you went missing again. I honestly don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.” </p><p>“Then stop?”  </p><p>Merlin knew she wouldn’t. She knew it too.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>She will. They all give up on you eventually. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“I’ll find you a studio. And a flat. But I plan on finding you one with loud neighbours, a leaking roof and a shitty shower, just so you know. Plus, you’re giving me a raise.” </p><p>“Thanks Nadine.” </p><p>“Just make sure you show up at the studio, this time. Oh, and Merlin?” </p><p>“Mh?” </p><p>“I’m happy to know you’re still alive.” </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>At least that makes one of us.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin pressed the end call button and took a sip of his coffee.  It tasted like battery acid. Cold battery acid. He really was too old for this.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur dragged Freya out of the lake. Or maybe it was the other way around. They sputtered as they surfaced, their lungs strained from staying under for what had seemed like an hour. They collapsed as soon as they got out of the water, Arthur’s arms firmly around her shoulders, her cheek against his chest. </p><p>They stayed like that for a while, until Arthur noticed the soft sound of someone breathing above them. He opened his eyes and looked up into a pair of hazel eyes. They belonged to a young boy. He smiled down at them, revealing a set of teeth that seemed a little too big for the boy's mouth.  </p><p>“Are you two alright?” </p><p>Arthur frowned, as he tried to make sense of the words.  After Merlin had left Albion, Arthur didn’t have anyone else to scry for, but he’d often found himself watching over the places he’d once known. He watched as they changed over time, saw citadels crumble and new cities rise. He listened closely when he realised the words his people used had lost their familiarity and he tried to adapt. When practicing his battle stances, he repeated the words he’d heard his people use. Over and over again.  </p><p>“Yes, nothing to see here. Thank you,” he nodded at the boy. Arthur felt proud of having made the effort to familiarise himself with his people’s changing language. He decided the child’s confused expression had more to do with the fact that two people just stumbled out of the freezing water rather than with his accent. Surely, that had to be it.  </p><p>“Is she... dead?” the boy asked. </p><p>Freya giggled and Arthur shoved her off of his chest without warning. “Only you could find this funny.” </p><p>Freya looked up at the boy after pushing her wet hair out of her face. “Don’t mind him, he’s just an old grouch. I’m fine,” she said, her accent a perfect copy of the kid’s. Arthur arched a brow.  </p><p>When the boy shrugged and headed off, Arthur turned to his friend who was wringing the lake water out of her white robes. He pushed himself up into a seated position. </p><p>“It’s called English now,” she said, without looking at Arthur. “I’d be a pretty terrible Keeper if I didn’t understand what everyone is always mumbling to themselves about, wouldn’t I?” </p><p>“Of course you’d be able to cheat your way out of actually having to learn the language,” Arthur chuckled. Then her words sank in. “The others. Are they still over there?” </p><p>“I doubt it. I saw a bunch of them slip into the cracks that opened up. And don’t bother asking. No, I don’t have a clue what happened. The place just started to come undone somehow,” she paused and looked him in the eye, “I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” </p><p>Arthur didn't answer. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders again and put his chin on her head. He shuddered. Then it happened again. At first Arthur thought it was because of the shock of almost losing Freya. Then the realisation dawned on him. He was cold. And wet. His teeth started to chatter. </p><p>“Would you look at that,” Freya chuckled against Arthur’s neck, “his Highness’ body is finally realising it’s back in the land of the living. Congratulations, you’ve gone back to experiencing the marvels of hunger, thirst and cold.” </p><p>Arthur’s arms tensed around her.  </p><p>He’d known. The boy had come up to him, had spoken to him.  But he’d been so preoccupied, the fear of almost losing Freya still pumping adrenaline through his veins. He hadn’t realised what it all meant. Not until she’d said it out loud.  </p><p>He stilled completely. His surroundings, now that he finally payed attention to them, were loud. Everything around him had been quiet for years now. There hadn’t been any birds, no sound of leaves rustling in the wind, no people. Arthur looked around. They sat on the shore of a lake. In the middle, he saw an island with the ruins of what had probably once been a tower or a small keep. Behind him, Arthur recognised the boy who’d come up to them before. The boy sat on a bench nearby, an old lady by his side. The woman seemed to focus on a red scarf she was knitting. The boy was still watching them carefully. </p><p>There were more people in the distance. One of them, a man, burst out in laughter. The sound echoed over the water.  </p><p>Arthur placed his hands on Freya’s shoulders and gently pushed her away, eyeing her up and down before giving himself a once-over.  </p><p>“I’m... I’m alive?” </p><p>“Looks like it. How do you feel?” </p><p>Arthur pondered her question. He felt cold. Wet. Uncomfortable, if anything. And it felt amazing. The air he breathed in held the sharpness of the cold spring morning. The cold prickled his skin. His stomach felt hollow, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Years actually, he corrected himself.  </p><p>When he raised his hands to flex his fingers, Arthur noticed they trembled. He couldn’t remember being this miserable. And he loved every second of it.  </p><p>“I feel... awful,” he beamed. She put her hand on his and squeezed tight.  </p><p>“Good.” </p><p>Freya’s eyes sparkled with mirth. Then they widened a little, as if she remembered something. She let go of Arthur and jumped up.  </p><p>“Stay here,” she ordered, before running straight towards the lake. She waded through it, towards a large boulder. When she got there, Arthur felt her use her magic. He felt it, even before seeing her eyes flicker a bright blue. That was new.  </p><p>When Freya made her way back to him through the water, her right hand stayed below the water’s surface.  </p><p>“I know that face,” Arthur chuckled as she approached him, “what are you up to now?” </p><p>“Turn around.” </p><p>He did as he was told, aware of the fact that this could be a terrible idea. His shoulders tensed when he heard the sound of her wet robes slapping against her legs as she approached.  </p><p>“Close your eyes,” Arthur heard her say behind him. “Now turn around and hold out your hand.” </p><p>“I swear if you’re planning on handing me a rotten fish, I’m not above slapping you in the face with it.” </p><p>“Just do it.” </p><p>He did. Freya put something cold and heavy in his hand. Definitely not a fish. Was that...  </p><p>“You can look now.” </p><p>When Arthur opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Freya’s lopsided grin. He looked down at what she’d placed in his hand and blinked.  </p><p>Excalibur.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin walked into the flat near Camden Town that Nadine had arranged for him. He should probably send her flowers. Or a book. Or maybe he could start by paying attention to what it was she actually liked so he could send her that.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Why bother? She’s only got what... forty, fifty years left?  Good ones that is. She’ll turn into  a smelly old mess after that. I’d like to think our standards are just slightly higher than that.  </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Dragoon cackled. Merlin tried to ignore the sound when he walked through the small hall with the built-in closets, right into a spacious kitchen and living area. The cupboards were a shiny polished white. Light streamed in through tall windows and reflected on Merlin’s new furniture. Everything was clean and fresh. The air held the scent of expensive cleaning products. Lavender. </p><p>Merlin ran his fingertips over the kitchen island with its black granite worktop. He looked at the refrigerator, knowing it’d be stocked but didn’t bother to look inside. Maybe later, he thought, before moving towards the living area where a huge black sofa waited for him. It looked inviting so Merlin dropped down on it, unbothered by what his dirty clothes would do to the expensive fabric.  </p><p>He didn’t notice the envelope on the coffee table until his feet landed next to it. Merlin sat up right and opened it. His trainers had left smudges on the white surface. </p><p>The envelope held a note from Nadine. She’d summarised  all the practical info he’d need during his stay here. The housekeeper’s contact info, directions to the studio with right next to them the time he was expected to show up. In capital letters. Merlin smiled.  </p><p> </p><p><strong> <em>Got your note</em> </strong>, he texted Nadine.  </p><p>
  <em> <strong>What time do I really have to be there tomorrow? <br/><br/></strong> </em>
</p><p><em> <strong>Learn to read. What does it say? </strong> </em> </p><p>
  <em> <strong><br/>10 am. If I call them to check, what time will they say I’ve booked the studio at? </strong> </em>
</p><p><em> <strong><br/>10.30</strong> </em>  😊  </p><p><br/>😉 </p><p>
  <em> <strong><br/>Your laptop will arrive tonight. The rest of your equipment should be there  by morning. There are clothes in your closet.  I got you an Oyster card as well. It’s in the refrigerator so at least I know you’ll open the thing. There’s food in there. Eat. </strong> </em>
</p><p><em> <strong><br/>Thanks, mum. </strong> </em> </p><p><br/>🙄 </p><p> </p><p>Merlin chuckled and put his phone away. He stayed there for a while, dozing off in the sunlight that streamed in through the tall windows. Maybe being back in Albion wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.  </p><p>***  </p><p>“Aren’t you coming with me?” Arthur sounded unsure.  </p><p>“I can’t. I have to go back, see if things can be fixed, somehow. Alert the other Keepers.” </p><p>Arthur felt his stomach clench.  </p><p>“But what if you –” </p><p>“Don’t. Here.” </p><p>Freya reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace she’d worn ever since Merlin had left the lake side. Its pendant held water from the lake of Avalon. They had hoped Merlin would one day return, so they could give it to him. He never had.  </p><p>Arthur hesitated before taking it from her. She placed the pendant in his hand, closing his fingers around it. Arthur’s eyes stung.  </p><p>“Freya, I...” He blinked and looked down at her hands covering his, unable to find the right words. </p><p>“I’ll miss you too, Sire,” she said, the title just as much an insult as always, “Just promise me you’ll come visit, alright? You and Merlin.” </p><p>Her lower lip trembled. Arthur cupped her face with his free hand. “I will. I promise you I’ll be back here before a day has passed on your side.” </p><p>Arthur pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, her chocolate eyes shone with unshed tears. He felt them burning in his own, too.  </p><p>They stood there for a while, until Freya finally let go of Arthur’s hand. “Come on now, we both have work to do. No servants around to do it for you.” </p><p>“Yet.” </p><p>“Yet,” she smiled. </p><p>Freya helped Arthur put the chain around his neck before straightening her back. She didn’t say anything else before walking back towards the water. Arthur knew all the things she could have said anyways. He was sure she knew them, too.  </p><p>She looked back at him before diving under. Arthur stood there for a long time, afraid she’d resurface. Even more afraid she wouldn’t. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title song: Train Wreck- James Arthur <br/>Other songs I've listened to while writing:<br/>I will never find another you - Cody Simpson<br/>Collide - Howie Day <br/>The book of yearning - School Is Cool</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Crawling up the beaches now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pendant Freya had given Arthur, had left a red mark in his palm from how tightly he’d held onto it before finally letting go. When Arthur turned his back to the water he’d seen his friend dive into, he felt alone. He hadn’t for a long time, Arthur realised.  </p><p>He hadn’t felt this lonely in years. Of course Arthur and Freya had spent time apart during his years in Avalon. She left him at times, to get to what she called her Keeper business. A smile tugged at the corner of Arthur’s lips when he remembered a couple of quite spectacular fights which had caused fallouts as well. They’d never lasted very long. And even though both of them were much too stubborn to actually offer the other an apology, they’d find other ways to make up for whatever it was they’d said. In the end, they both knew how much the other meant to them, regardless of what had or hadn’t been said, so eventually Arthur and Freya always ended up drifting towards each other again. Always.  </p><p>But not now. </p><p>With each step, the distance between Arthur and Freya grew.  </p><p>Arthur shook his head. This was what they’d been working towards, wasn’t it? All this time, they’d tried to find a way for Arthur to get off of the beach. They’d tried to find a way to get Arthur back to this side, so he’d find a way to give Merlin’s magic back to him. He had no right to spend time being sad, now that he’d finally gotten here. So much of it had already been wasted. </p><p><em> Merlin, </em>  Arthur thought, just as he had so many times before when staring into the scrying bowl.  He tried to empty his mind, just like Freya had told him.  <em> Show me Merlin. </em> </p><p>He felt his eyes glow crimson, half expecting to see the path ahead, like Freya had promised him he would. His surroundings remained unchanged. He didn’t see where he was supposed to go. No guiding lights showed up to point him in the right direction. The only thing Arthur felt was a weird pulling sensation buried deep in his gut. <em> Good enough </em>, he figured.  </p><p>He decided to follow his magic’s lead and let it guide him. Arthur’s eyes widened when he noticed the direction he was headed in.  </p><p>The young boy who’d come to check on him and Freya before, was still sat on that same bench. The woman beside him had placed the red scarf he’d seen her work on in her lap. She leaned back and seemed to enjoy the sunlight, a lazy smile on her wrinkled face.  </p><p>When he approached the pair, Arthur saw the boy tug at the woman’s arm. She didn’t open her eyes until he halted before them. The woman looked up at Arthur and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand.  </p><p>Arthur tried his very best not to look threatening, very much aware of how his wet clothes clung to his body. He cringed at the thought of how that probably put even more emphasis on the sword that hung at his belt. Lately, whenever he’d looked at the world he’d left, Arthur had noticed people didn’t use swords anymore. This was not going to be easy.  </p><p>The boy was the first to speak.  </p><p>“The lady left.” </p><p>Arthur’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She did.” </p><p>“Does she live in the lake?” </p><p>Right. This was going to be a lot of fun to explain. “She does.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“Steven, manners,” the old lady interrupted their conversation, “how about you introduce yourself to the king of Camelot?” </p><p>“Sorry, nan.” </p><p> *** </p><p>Merlin had stopped for a coffee on his way to the studio. As promised, Nadine had made sure his laptop got to him the night before. On it, he’d found the rough edit of the film he was supposed to compose for as well as a couple of rough drafts he’d saved for the score he was supposed to have finished weeks ago. Merlin took a sip from his coffee and hummed the melody that had been haunting him since the night before.  </p><p>He’d worked with the director before and had enjoyed the man’s work. He hadn’t been the only one. The last film they had worked on together, had been nominated for several awards, including the Academy Award for Best Original Score.  </p><p>They hadn’t won, but Merlin knew he’d come close.  </p><p>The project he’d been working on this time, was a film set during the second World War. The plot wasn’t very original. A soldier is wounded during battle and gets caught by the enemy. He makes a friend who dies when helping him escape and then tries to find his way back home.  </p><p>Merlin hadn’t liked it much when he first read the script but by the time he finally bothered to let Nadine know he wasn’t interested, she had already signed the contract for him. He should have known better than to doubt her judgment, as it turned out. When the first dailies got sent to Merlin, months ago, he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes off of his screen.  </p><p>The soldier’s story was captivating in its simplicity. The vulnerability and loneliness the wounded man displayed, had moved Merlin, even before any of the rough edges had been edited out. He’d started composing right away. He’d gotten quite a lot of work done, too, it seemed.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Until you stopped. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Until he’d stopped.  </p><p>Merlin had tried to pinpoint the day he’d disappeared. When he went back through his e-mails and checked his calendar he found that the last appointment he’d definitely made it to, had been on a Thursday morning. He’d agreed to meet a young musician at the J<em> ardin </em> <em>  des Tuileries </em>, near the Louvre. Judging by the e-mails' contents, Merlin figured he’d agreed to help the young man fix a couple of songs on his upcoming album. Merlin, or Emrys, as most people knew him these days, didn’t perform live. He composed. He wrote. He played. But he never performed. Not anymore. </p><p>The last time Merlin had performed his own music, had been in the 1960s. By then, it wasn’t unusual for people to own cameras anymore. Photography was quite the rage, as it had been for a couple of decades. Capturing images that lasted forever, seemed to appeal to people. Seeing those pictures on the covers of magazines helped sell copies. The first time Merlin had seen an image of himself on stage in a magazine, he’d bought ten copies. The second time, he’d grinned and had shown it to the person he had hoped to take home that night and had found that they definitely didn’t need much convincing after that.  </p><p>The third time, Merlin’s face had been on the cover. He’d frozen. He found another picture of himself inside the magazine. The article had been titled “Last decade’s one hit wonders”. Merlin had huffed. They had had more than one hit, obviously. But that didn’t matter. What had mattered, was how the band’s gangly raven-haired keyboard player had stared straight at the camera. Merlin had looked into his own eyes, had seen his own face and had been overcome with dread. If, twenty years from now, he would still be doing this, people could recognise him. Could notice he wasn’t aging.  </p><p>Merlin had always been good at keeping secrets. During his first lifetime, he’d managed to fool everyone when it came to his magic. Keeping this immortality he'd been cursed with a secret, had been easy in comparison. He could simply move and come back after a lifetime had passed. How long would photographs last?  </p><p>The day the article was published, had been the last time Merlin had stood on a stage.  </p><p>He’d taken to writing songs for others after that. Had recorded several albums under a pseudonym and had slowly managed to be forgotten. He’d managed to step back into the shadows.  </p><p>Merlin had continued to make music. Drowning himself in melodies of his own creation, was almost always a good way to drown Dragoon’s voice out. If that didn’t work, drugs and alcohol were always a good last resort, too.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Speaking of, have we figured out where we’re getting our fix yet? Can’t exactly call our guy </em> <em>from Paris, can we?</em>  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin wondered what had set him off this time. A quick google search of the musician he had been supposed to meet with, had Merlin roll his eyes. Of course. He quickly closed the screen that had revealed the blue-eyed musician. In most pictures he’d worn a hat, but Merlin had clearly seen the strands of blond that peeked out from under it. Yes. That did explain it. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Explain what, mate? How utterly pathetic you are? As if that needed any more explaining. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin couldn’t disagree. He didn’t doubt what had set him off for a single second. Ever since the incident in Malmö, Sweden, Merlin had steered clear from blond men. Every now and then the sunlight would hit their head in a certain way and Merlin would be swung back to a time long since past. It never ended well.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Understatement. It usually ends with you wasted as fuck. Honestly, I thought your opium-filled years in Asia had been as bad as it got. Guess I was wrong. Not that I’m complaining, mind.</em>  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin tried to ignore the voice in his head and checked the navigation app on his phone. He’d save ten minutes if he took a right here and went through the park. Merlin zoomed in and the words Regent’s Park appeared on the screen. He finished his coffee and threw the cup in a bin, before going left. The cackling between his ears grew louder. </p><p>*** </p><p>The boy’s name was Steven. Steven. The name echoed in Arthur’s head. It was the only thing that seemed to register. The boy’s name was Steven. That bit of information was the last thing anyone had told Arthur that made even a little bit of sense. They had gone to the old lady’s house. The two of them had offered Arthur food and dry clothing. He couldn’t recall eating the clothes or putting the food on. Wait, that didn’t make sense either.  </p><p>They’d talked and Arthur had listened. And then they’d talked even more. Steven was nine, Arthur remembered. That had been easy to process. The things Steven’s nan had said had been much, much more difficult to understand.  </p><p>She’d introduced herself as Maggie, or rather Margaret-but-call-me-Maggie. The woman had started talking the moment they left for the cottage she lived in with Steven. Steven-please-nan-let-him-call-me-Steve-it-sounds-cooler was Maggie’s grandson.  </p><p>Margaret-but-call-me-Maggie had told Arthur she was a druid. Arthur wasn’t sure she actually had magic. He couldn’t feel it, the way he’d felt Freya’s magic earlier that day, but that could have been a fluke. She’d simply showed him a tattoo that looked like Freya’s and had told him to come with her. He’d hesitated, but the moment he even thought of leaving her and her grandson, the magical churning in his gut had made the decision for him.  </p><p>Arthur wasn’t sure he stood by the decision once it was made. The woman barely stopped talking and yet the endless stream of words she spewed never added up to anything sensible. She rambled about moving to the lake as a little girl while handing Arthur dry clothes and a towel.  She babbled about watching the lake all year long, even on holidays when the whole world got together to celebrate, as she stood by the door when Arthur discovered the marvels of indoor plumbing.  Arthur almost managed to drown her voice out when he turned on the thing she’d called a shower. Almost.  </p><p>Steven, bless his soul, was the one who finally got the woman to shut up. He’d told her she needed to call a man named Henry. She had immediately gone into another room. Arthur had heard her mumbling. When Arthur asked why the man, Henry, had stayed out there all this time, Steven had giggled before droning on about something called a <em> telling bone </em>. Arthur feared his head was about to burst. None of this made sense.  </p><p>He wished Freya was there with him.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin was all but finished for the day. He’d managed to record rough drafts for several scenes. He did most work himself, which was also one of the reasons he was very sought after in the film industry. Emrys, the one-man orchestra. With modern day techniques, recording music had become much, much easier. Fewer people were needed, especially if you hired someone who was able to record the things he’d composed.  </p><p>Some things, Merlin refused to compromise on. Usually, people ended up agreeing with him whenever he did put his foot down. Some sequences could only be recorded with a full orchestra or with live vocals to get the timing just right.  </p><p>Even though most of what got recorded nowadays was great, even without filling the stage of a concert hall, Merlin swore by recording studios, the older the better. He never compromised on equipment, of course, but there was something about rooms with hardwood panelling and thick carpets that brought out sounds in a way that a cramped living room never would.  </p><p>Another thing Merlin liked about recording studios was the connection he could form with the people he worked with.  </p><p>Most of the people he worked with.  </p><p>Just not the technician he was supposed to have been nice to today. </p><p>Merlin knew he’d acted like a total jerk to the young man whose only fault had been the fact that he’d shown up for work that morning. He’d greeted Merlin with a big smile, obviously excited to finally meet Emrys. He’d said as much, too, Merlin remembered.  The kid had obviously been a bit of a fan before actually meeting Merlin, but the disillusionment in the young man’s blue eyes had been apparent after having been snapped at several times.  </p><p>Around noon, the limited-edition vinyl record that held the first album Merlin had ever recorded as Emrys, had been shoved under a pile of magazines. It had been right in the middle of the kid’s work desk before. He’d probably intended to ask Merlin to sign it. Merlin didn’t mention it. Neither did the technician. Some of his enthusiasm returned when they got to work. Merlin found it much easier to be nice to the guy if he didn’t have to look at him.  </p><p>Before leaving, Merlin checked his phone. Three missed calls from Nadine. When he called her back, she picked up on the first ring.  </p><p>“Merlin,” she said. Merlin recognised the fondness in her voice, although he figured to anyone else her brisk manner of speaking would have made her sound as if she were in a sour mood.  </p><p>“Miss me already?” The technician looked up from his equipment when he heard Merlin’s fluent French. Merlin tried to hide his wince and quickly looked away. He ran his fingers through his hair and continued, “Just say yes, it’ll make my day.” </p><p>“Fine. Yes. Happy?” </p><p>“Very. What’s up?” </p><p>“You’re still at the studio right?” </p><p>He hummed. Behind him, he heard the technician leave. Merlin’s shoulders relaxed a little. </p><p>“Alright. Your instruments arrive at the station near Regent’s Park in an hour. Baker Street. I need you to go over there and sign for them. Something went wrong with the paperwork. Today has been ridiculous.” </p><p>“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. </p><p>“Cheers. I’ll have a taxi waiting there for you to get them back to your flat.” </p><p>Merlin hung up and gathered his things. The kid hadn't returned. Merlin took the record out from under the stack of magazines and grabbed a marker to sign the record. He saw a pad of post-it notes and smiled before taking the cap off of the marker again.  </p><p><strong>I’m an ass, I know. Sorry</strong>, he wrote.</p><p>When he closed the door behind him, Merlin heard the technician chuckle.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur fiddled with the chain around his neck as he looked at the fields and forests that rolled past behind the window. He wondered if he’d ever been to any of the unfamiliar places before. He wondered if they were even still in Albion. Nature hadn’t changed much. Fields were still fields. Cows, although they’d gotten much bigger than the ones he’d been used to, were still cows. Those things, he recognised. Those things weren’t what scared him.  </p><p>The three of them had taken something called a coach. A coach that would carry them to the train that would eventually take them a place called Paris. That’s where Merlin was staying. Apparently, he had been there for a long time now.  Arthur had tried to remember everything he’d been told. The only problem was the sheer amount of information that had been dumped on him.  The words they used were foreign. They spoke too fast and said too much.  </p><p>The coach Arthur had climbed into, was a roaring steel monster. Arthur had seen vehicles before. Over the years he had seen how people had replaced coaches by trains and cars. He knew what they were. He did. That didn’t mean he necessarily felt overcome with the urge to climb into one. </p><p>When he’d stood in front of the coach, Arthur had read the letters on the giant monstrosity’s side, National Express, they read, according to Steven. The same words had been on their servant’s attire. Not their servant, Arthur corrected himself, their driver. Arthur had handed the man some of the paper Maggie had given him earlier. Money, she’d called it. The orange and blue sheets with the peculiar drawings on them had replaced coins, apparently. How odd. </p><p>Arthur leaned back. He felt the headrest vibrate against his skull. Felt a jolt every now and then when the metal contraption he was in hit a bump in the road. He wrapped his hand around the pendant Freya had given him. Inside, he felt the lake water slosh against the sides of the vial. He closed his eyes and focused on the cool metal and the promise it held.  </p><p>Steven sat with Arthur. The boy had fallen asleep soon after they’d left. His head had lolled to the side and was now resting on Arthur’s arm. Arthur didn’t mind. If anything, he was happy to have someone close. Someone real.  </p><p>He felt so out of place in this chair. In this vehicle. In these clothes that felt both too rough and too soft at the same time. The breeches felt too tight, the fabric of his tunic itched. His old clothes were in something called a trolley, along with Excalibur. Arthur suspected the old woman had some magic after all, because there was no other explanation for how she’d been able to fit it in there. He wished she hadn’t, though. He’d always felt more confident with his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a sword. </p><p>Arthur sighed and unfolded the sheet of paper he’d put in the pocket of his jeans. He stared at the words on it. Steven had read them to him, earlier. “London,” Arthur whispered, as he traced the letters with his finger, before focusing on the next set of words. “Baker Street Station.” </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin looked away the moment he saw a blond man get out of the bus. He’d already come close to losing it twice today. First with the google search of the French musician, then the kid at the studio.  </p><p>He refused to look.<br/><br/>He wasn't going to look.  </p><p>And yet. </p><p>Something ached in Merlin’s chest. He didn’t want to look up but found himself turning his head towards the people getting out of the bus. The blond was gone. He saw a young boy holding an elderly woman’s hand. He saw people over by the bus’  luggage compartment. No sign of a fair-haired man. He let his eyes wander over someone who had half crawled into the bus's hold. Merlin felt his lips curl up when he checked out the man’s ass. The jeans he wore were a bit tight, but Merlin didn’t mind. He felt drawn towards the man in his tight jeans. Felt something urge him forward. He took a step. Then another. </p><p>Someone shouted. A car honked. Tires screeched.</p><p>He heard something snap.</p><p>People screamed.  </p><p>Why had the world started spinning?  </p><p>Merlin saw people gather around him. Over him. Why was he lying down?  </p><p>Why couldn’t he move his head?  </p><p>Why couldn’t he open his mouth to tell them to give him some space?  </p><p>He’d be fine. Really. </p><p>All he needed was some… space. </p><p> </p><p>The last thing Merlin saw, before everything went black, was a man leaning over him. He felt the man cup his face. <em> How odd</em>, Merlin thought. <em>Are those red contact lenses? </em>  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi everyone, as always, it's so good to have you here with me.<br/>Your comments and kudos mean the world, and just knowing people are taking their time to read what I've been working on is so humbling. I really appreciate it. &lt;3</p><p>The chapter's title song is Epiphany, by Taylor Swift.<br/>I've listened to it a lot while writing. To me it represents the feeling of the movie Merlin is composing for. And then of course it seemed to fit with the chapter's ending.<br/>Two other songs that heavily inspired this chapter are:<br/>- Amen Omen, by Ben Harper<br/>- Echo by Jason Walker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. No comfort in the waiting room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur felt uneasy. The pull in his stomach he’d felt ever since leaving the lake only became stronger as they approached the city. He knew they were going in the right direction. He felt it. The thought was both exciting and frightening at the same time. He’d spent the past five years trying to get back to the man, and yet now that he might finally see him again, he had no idea what to say when he finally would. What if Merlin didn’t recognise him? What if he’d moved on and didn’t even want his magic back after all this time?  </p><p>Steven stirred when they entered the city and didn’t even notice the large wet patch of drool he left on Arthur’s sleeve when he lifted his head. The city they’d entered left him spellbound. He filled the coach with his excited squeals and kept shooting big-toothed grins Arthur’s way. He’d all but crawled onto Arthur’s lap in an attempt to get a better view out of the window, his delight at visiting London evident on his face. His great-aunt lived in the city, he explained. That was his nan’s sister. She’d fallen sick a while ago, but since they spent all their time by the lake, they hadn’t been able to visit her as much as his nan had wanted. They would go to her as soon as Arthur was on his train to Paris the next day. Arthur felt a pang of guilt when he realised he was the reason it had taken them so long to come visit Maggie’s sister. They’d been waiting for him.  </p><p>He didn’t have much time to process the thought. Keeping up with Steven required his full attention. The boy told Arthur all the things he remembered from when he’d been to London before. He’d only been six at the time, but he seemed to have memorised a great deal. How much of it was true and how much had been false memories created in a child’s mind, Arthur didn’t know, but he found himself enjoying the child’s description of all the marvels the city held, nonetheless. Steven had spoken of a place called a museum, where he’d seen real dinosaur bones. After the boy explained what a dinosaur was, Arthur told him about the time he’d slain the dragon that had attacked Camelot. Steven’s squeals of joy had woken Maggie up, too. She smiled at the two of them, her face a bundle of delicate wrinkles lit up by the sun that streamed in through the glass.  </p><p>Together they watched the city’s tall buildings slide past. Both Arthur and Steven’s jaws had dropped, Arthur noticed after a while, when looking over at the boy next to him. He didn’t doubt for a second that the amazed gaze on the child’s face had been on his own too, when admiring the architectural wonders of this city. The United Kingdom’s capital. Arthur couldn’t help but feel proud. </p><p>“Attention everyone,” Arthur sat up right when he heard the driver’s voice through the speakers, “we’ll be arriving at our final stop shortly. Make sure to gather all your belongings. Thank you for choosing to ride with us today. Enjoy your stay.” </p><p>Around him, people started to rummage through their things. Arthur didn’t have any. He just watched Maggie as she picked up her knitting that had fallen on the floor hours ago and followed her out into the city.  </p><p>Arthur nearly fell over when he stepped out of the coach, off-balance by the magical pull that had become even stronger the moment the driver had opened the door and the sounds of the city had come streaming in. He kept his eyes down, afraid they’d burn a bright red. He felt his magic roar through his veins. The last time that had happened was during a spectacular sparring match with Freya. She’d taunted him to no end, until he’d quite literally blown up. His skin prickled, just like it had then, his senses were heightened. The city around him was so loud. So vivid. The colours around him shone so bright. He tried to ignore the pull and headed for the luggage compartment, where he saw their bags had slid to the back. He crawled in to pick them up.  </p><p>Arthur reached forward. His magic needled at him to go the other way.  </p><p>He grabbed the trolley’s handle. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up.  </p><p>He started to move back, out of the luggage compartment and turned around to look for Maggie and Steven. He froze. </p><p>Someone yelled. Arthur didn’t understand the words they shouted, but the shock in their voice was easy to recognise. He turned around and instinctively crouched down into a defensive position. The sound of a blaring horn pierced the air. </p><p>Something was wrong.  </p><p>Arthur’s stomach turned. He searched the crowd until he found Maggie holding Steven against her side. He started to move towards the two of them but his legs refused to go that way. He ended up heading towards the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the road.  </p><p>Something was wrong.  </p><p>An accident, he thought. He saw one of the vehicles, a car, Steven had called it, stand still in the middle of the road. They usually didn’t do that. That much, Arthur had figured out by now.  </p><p>Something was wrong.  </p><p>Arthur saw how the people before him moved to the side, as if pushed away by an invisible force. He lowered his hand when he realised he’d been the one to do it. He’d moved them to clear his path. He arrived at the centre of the commotion and looked over the person lying on the street, noticing the thick red pool that contrasted the dark asphalt beneath the man and the odd angle of his leg. He’d seen people get hurt before. He’d seen soldiers get the most horrifying battle wounds. Had seen them bleed out, much like the man before him right now. He didn’t understand why this felt different. Momentous</p><p>Something was -  </p><p>“Merlin.” </p><p> </p><p>Arthur didn’t remember sinking to his knees. He didn’t remember cupping the man’s face. He didn’t remember the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He didn’t remember any of it. All he remembered was the moment Merlin opened his eyes to look into his. Before closing them again.  </p><p>He looked so pale.  </p><p>He looked so very, very pale.  </p><p>So thin. </p><p>And much, much smaller than Arthur remembered.  </p><p> </p><p>Seconds later, or minutes, possibly hours, someone tugged at Arthur’s shoulder. Someone told him to let go. Arthur saw blue lights flicker close by.  </p><p>How on earth anyone dared to tell him he had to let go of the man in his arms, was beyond Arthur. So he didn’t. He held on for dear life. For Merlin’s life, mostly. Although quite possibly for that of the idiot who tried to get him to let go, too. He felt his rage bubble under his skin, begging to be let loose on those who dared to offend him. Sheer willpower and years of training and practicing his self-control were the one thing keeping the people around him alive. He knew.  </p><p>They didn’t.  </p><p>Idiots. </p><p>He heard someone promise they’d help Merlin, if only he’d let go so they could check on him. Heard someone tell him he could come with them to a place they called the <em> host’s petal</em>.  Felt, more than saw them lift Merlin’s thin body up on a metal plank before they moved him.  Arthur didn’t know how he ended up in the vehicle with its blaring siren, but there he was. Someone had strapped him onto a chair. A metal chair. He felt the cold seep in through his jeans as he watched blurry figures move about around Merlin.   </p><p> </p><p>When they arrived at the <em> host’s petal,  </em>a young man walked up to Arthur and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. The man’s fingers dug in deep in an attempt to get through to him. Arthur looked up.  </p><p>“I know you’re worried, yeah? But there’s nothing you can do. You have to let us take care of your...” he raised his voice a little at the end, making it sound like a question. </p><p>“My... friend. He’s my friend,” Arthur said, before continuing in what was barely more than a whisper, “I can’t lose him.” </p><p>“Then let’s give the doctors the space they need to make sure we don’t. I’m going to take you to a waiting room, yeah? The closest one we have to where they’ll be taking care of him.” </p><p>Arthur nodded and let the man guide him towards a small square room. There were chairs against the walls and a low table in the middle with sheets of parchment on it. Paper, he realised, not parchment. Bundles of papers with portraits in shiny bright colours that were ruined by the big letters someone had sprawled all over them. When Arthur picked one up for a closer look, his hands left dark red stains on the parchment- on the paper.  </p><p>The man, who had introduced himself as Thomas, returned every hour or so, to check in on Arthur. A little after the sun had set, the man brought Arthur a weird and fragile type of glass goblet, filled with water, that crumpled up in Arthur’s palm as soon as he took it from the man. When Thomas returned with another, he placed it on the table rather than hand it over to Arthur. Next to it, he placed a bright purple bar.  </p><p>“You should eat something,” he’d said before leaving. Arthur carefully emptied the glass before eyeing the purple stick, unsure of what to do with it. He doubted he’d have wanted to take a bite out of it, even if his stomach hadn’t been in knots.  </p><p>When Thomas left for the night, someone else checked in on Arthur, until the following morning, the man returned. He brought him another goblet, a sturdier one this time. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” he tried.  </p><p>Arthur took the goblet. He’d seen someone drink from a similar one the day before, in the bus and felt oddly proud of himself when he didn’t lift the lid but rather drank from the awkward little hole. The beverage was bitter and far too hot, but he barely felt it.  </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>“So, your... friend is out of surgery. He’ll be taken to a room shortly.” </p><p>Arthur perked up.  </p><p>“I’m, er... I’m not supposed to let anyone in unless they’re family, so...” </p><p>“He doesn’t have any left.” </p><p>“Right. Let’s try that again, yeah,” the man said, pointedly, “I can’t let you in unless you’re fami-” </p><p>“I am.” </p><p>The man smiled.  </p><p>*** </p><p>“Hey Arthur,” a soft voice said from outside the room. Arthur looked up to find Steven in the door frame. Maggie stood behind him, her thin hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“Now what did I tell you about not calling him Sire,” Maggie said. Her voice lacked the light-heartedness it had held the day before. The boy shrugged.  </p><p>Steven held a book in his hands, the covers tattered and the back damaged. He clung onto it as if it were a lifeline, his eyes wide saucers in his pale face as he glanced at the silent figure in the bed, then at the machines beeping next to it before finally turning to Arthur again.  </p><p>“Nan said I should give you flowers. But I didn’t want to. Flowers… flowers die,” Steven bit his lower lip before continuing. “So I brought you something else.” </p><p>The boy took a deep breath and walked into the room, his knuckles white from how tightly he held the book in his hands. He held it out to Arthur, who took it without saying a word. He traced the gold letters on the cover with his fingers and tried to read the word out loud. The letters, he recognised, the words themselves didn’t make sense until Steven corrected him.  </p><p>“Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales,” Steven said. “They’re stories. With happy endings. Most of them anyways but Nan says you can always come up with a better ending if you don’t like the one you got.”  </p><p>Arthur smiled.  </p><p>“You could read to him, you know. I’ll… I’ll stay here and help you with the difficult words if you want. I don’t mind.” </p><p>The boy straightened his back, in an attempt to hide his discomfort. He reminded Arthur of his younger knights, and the way they had tried to put on brave faces before going into battle without knowing whether or not they’d ever have a chance to hold their loved ones again. Not just the young ones, Arthur remembered.  </p><p>“Thank you, Steven. I’d like that,” Arthur leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice, “Don’t tell your grandmother, but this place scares me a little.”  </p><p>The boy gave him an earnest nod. “Your secret is safe with me, Arthur.” </p><p>Arthur didn’t speak after that, but chose to allow the boy the time he needed to gather his thoughts. He’d meant to comfort Steven, by saying he was scared. That’s why he’d said it. But it hadn’t been a lie. Not really. Not at all. He was. He was terrified.  </p><p>Every sound coming from the machinery by Merlin’s bed tightened the vice around his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe. The physicians in their white coats with their big words had looked at Arthur as if he were an ignorant child, when he’d made them explain how Merlin was doing. Over and over again. Until he understood. Until he wished he didn’t.   </p><p>They’d used big words that hadn’t made any sense. In the end he’d understood that Merlin had several broken bones and had lost a lot of blood, both from internal and external wounds. The injury the doctors had been most vague about, was the one he knew he should worry about most. They’d said something about a swelling in his brain. About knowing more if he woke up. They'd said <em>if</em>.  </p><p>Arthur welcomed the distraction of Steven placing the book in his hands. He looked in Maggie’s direction, to see if she minded. She nodded in approval and took a seat in the chair on the other side of Merlin’s bed. She continued working on the red scarf. The somber mood in the <em> host’s petal </em> room had managed to silence even her.  </p><p>They sat there, and waited. The three of them.  </p><p>Arthur ended up in a chair next to Merlin’s bed, with Steven on his lap. The boy kept his promise and helped Arthur decipher the foreign words on the pages while the hands of the clock on the wall kept creeping forward, until eventually, some of the words he read, started to make sense to Arthur.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur spent the next two days by Merlin’s side. He memorised every single crack in the ceiling and counted the tiles on the floor for what seemed like a million times as he paced over them. Whenever he stopped by the window to look out over the city they were in, he took his time to watch over the bustling city streets below, where people lived their lives, completely unaware of the terror he faced here. Here in this cramped room with its whirring machines and the beeps Arthur had discovered were actually a good sign, as long as they came at regular intervals.  </p><p>The nurses seemed to feel sorry for him, or at least he suspected as much, when he saw them bring in trays of food that couldn’t have been for Merlin. Merlin would have to be awake in order to eat. Arthur barely touched the trays but wouldn’t let the nurses take them away until the next meal had arrived. If Merlin woke up... <em> When  </em>Merlin woke up, there would be food waiting for him. Arthur made sure of it.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t leave the room until he absolutely had to, and even then, he’d only done so when Steven or Maggie were there to watch over Merlin. He was grateful for their presence. For Maggie’s endless chatter he’d come to find soothing rather than disturbing. For the fresh clothes she’d brought Arthur when he’d refused to stay with them at Maggie’s sister’s flat. Most of all, he enjoyed Steven’s quiet determination to show Arthur he was brave enough to spend time in a hospital. That’s what this place was called apparently. A hospital.  </p><p>The sun had begun to set during Arthur’s second day in the hospital, when Merlin finally stirred. It took less than two seconds for Arthur to jump out of his chair and kneel by the bed, his eyes level with Merlin’s face. He crouched down by Merlin’s side and grabbed the man’s cold hand. It felt icy to the touch and reminded him of how close he’d actually come to losing Merlin, before even having found him again. Arthur’s jaw clenched.  </p><p>Arthur looked around for a candle to light. There weren’t any around. The lights overhead didn’t respond to his magic. He was about to get up to switch on the light, when Merlin let out a soft moan. Arthur didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Didn't dare to breathe.</p><p>Merlin opened his eyes, his pupils dilated from the pain medication, so the blue Arthur had expected to see in his eyes was barely visible. He looked in Arthur's direction with glazed eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey there old friend,” Arthur whispered as soon as he managed to get the words out. He’d slipped back into their old language. Merlin didn’t seem to react, so Arthur tried again, using the words he knew in modern English.  </p><p>Merlin moaned and mumbled something. His fingers twitched under Arthur's. “... party hard last night.” The words were jumbled, his voice strained.  </p><p>“Merlin?” </p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p>“How- How are you feeling?” </p><p>“Merlin’s me and there’s two of you."</p><p>Merlin squinted. "Unless I'm seeing double again." </p><p>“I...”</p><p>“You look like him, you know.” </p><p>Merlin lifted his arm off the bed, the movement uncoordinated. He placed his hand on Arthur’s cheek.   </p><p>“Such a shame,” Merlin murmured. </p><p>“What is?” </p><p>“Your nose is too small. His was bigger.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter 10 already... Time really does fly! When I started this in July, I meant to write a one shot, a short fic describing Arthur finding his way out of Avalon to make his way back to a cynical modern day Merlin as a way for me to deal with having seen Diamond of the Day, and somehow it turned into this...<br/>Thank you all for being here with me. It's been such a joy to read your comments and hear your thoughts.</p><p>The music that guided me through writing this chapter is:<br/>Wires by Athlete<br/>What Sarah said by Death Cab for Cutie<br/>How to save a life by The Fray</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Give me something to remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur placed his hand over the one Merlin had put on his cheek and felt relief wash over him. “Still no manners, I see. You’re lucky you look miserable right now.” He couldn’t have kept the tremor out of his voice, even if he’d tried.  </p><p>“Oh, do I?” </p><p>Did he? Merlin really did look horrible. His eyes were still bloodshot, the web of red veins and enormous black pupils a stark contrast to the white bandages around his head. Arthur knew he’d find more bandages and bruises all over Merlin’s body. He’d left whenever the nurses had come to change them, but he knew they were there. He could only imagine the surgical scars they’d find underneath. The amount of time it would take for all of them to heal and fade. If they ever did. </p><p>Arthur had cast some of the healing spells Freya had tried to show him once. He didn’t think they helped much, but Arthur kept casting them anyways, in the dark of the night when the only sounds in the halls were those of the nurses on night shift.  </p><p>Merlin looked at Arthur as if he expected an answer. His unfocused, bloodshot eyes moved from Arthur’s face to their joined hands on Arthur’s cheek. Merlin’s thumb moved over the stubble on Arthur’s jaw, towards his lips.  </p><p>“You’ve looked better,” Arthur whispered, his voice a little unsteady, “You’ve... you’ve had an accident.” </p><p>“Oh. That’s inconvenient.” </p><p>“Quite.” Arthur smiled for what felt like the first time in days, just as Merlin’s thumb reached his bottom lip.   </p><p>Merlin made a sound that could have been a chuckle or a cough. “Don’t worry about me, gorgeous. I don’t die.” </p><p>“Doesn’t change the fact that you look half-dead, though.” </p><p>“Shame. You look like the kind of person I’d want to make an effort for.” Merlin winced before his lips could curl all the way up into what would have been a cheeky smile.  </p><p>“You should make an effort for your King you know. It’s to be expected.” </p><p>Merlin winced again, this time at the word King, and pulled his hand back. Arthur’s jaw clenched at the loss of Merlin’s warmth.  </p><p>“You’re not my King.” Merlin murmured, his voice still muddled. The words left his lips quicker now than they had before, as if they forced their way out. “You’re not. There’s only ever been the one. You’re- You’re not.” </p><p>As the beeping sounds of the machines attached to the man before him quickened and crescendoed, Arthur looked at the peaks he’d learned were linked to Merlin’s heartbeat. The peaks were much, much closer together now than they had been before. Higher, too, it seemed. He tried to calm Merlin down, tried to tell him it was okay. Things were going to be alright. Tell him he didn’t mean to upset him, but the words seemed to have the opposite effect on the man. The quickening sounds of the machinery behind Arthur only made it worse.  </p><p>“You’re not. You’re not you’re not you’re not-” </p><p>Merlin pressed his hands to his ears, as if to drown out Arthur's voice as well as the machines with their frantic beeps, pulling loose the tubes that were attached to his left arm. Blood started trickling down. Merlin didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did. When Arthur leaned over to keep Merlin from moving again, and doing even more damage than what may have already been done in the process, Merlin pushed himself upright and scuffled backwards in a frantic attempt to get out of reach. A guttural sound left the man’s throat. Moving obviously hurt, which made it even worse for Arthur to see just how badly Merlin wanted to put distance between the two of them.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t remember calling out for help, but when a pair of nurses rushed in, he took a step back to make it easier for them to reach Merlin. He pressed his back against the cold wall, while they attended Merlin, whose eyes were still glued to Arthur’s face in a panic he couldn’t quite place. He heard their hushed voices as they tried to calm him down. Saw the muscles in their shoulders tense as they pressed him down on the bed.  </p><p>Arthur wanted to apologize. Felt like he should. But he didn’t know how. Didn’t think he would have been able to speak, even if he had known what to say. A third nurse came in. Arthur recognised the man who’d taken care of him that first awful night. Thomas. The man’s strong hand on Arthur’s shoulder was what grounded him. Arthur allowed the man to lead him out of the room. He let Thomas lead him to an uncomfortable looking blue chair in one of the waiting areas near Merlin’s room and took a seat. The nurse sat down next to him and leaned forward, making sure to catch Arthur’s eyes.  </p><p>“They’ll take care of him. I’ve got to go back and help them out. Just stay here, yeah?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Arthur said. He assumed that meant yes.  </p><p>When Thomas headed back towards Merlin’s room, Arthur lifted his hand to his cheek, to where Merlin’s had been minutes ago. He didn’t move for a long time.  </p><p> </p><p>A crashing sound in the hallway was what finally pulled Arthur out of his daze. Immediately alarmed, he got up to see if the noise had come from Merlin’s room. But it hadn’t. Someone must have toppled over the leech tank by the nurses’ station again, he thought.  </p><p>In an attempt to get rid of the feeling of unrest he’d been unable to shake, Arthur walked up and down the corridor a couple of times until he stopped at the water cooler to pour himself a cup. He stared into the plastic cup for a while before taking it into an empty room. </p><p>In there, he looked through the cupboards until he found a metal chamber pot. Arthur paused when he felt how light it was. The craftsmanship of people nowadays kept surprising him at every turn. He filled the bowl with water from the tap in the en suite bathroom before unclasping the chain around his neck, the one that held the vial Freya had given him.  </p><p>Without waiting as much as a second after letting a drop of the vial’s contents drip into the metal chamber pot, he dipped his finger in the bowl and circled the bowl three times, counter-clockwise. “Please, please show me Freya.” </p><p>The water swirled around in the bowl, over and over again until it finally stilled again. Arthur held his breath, afraid the slightest movement would break the spell.  </p><p>But nothing happened.  </p><p>She didn’t show. He didn’t see warm brown eyes or a cheeky smile. The red eyes staring back at him were his own. Of course Arthur had known this could happen. Time passed so much slower on the other side. He knew he should have waited longer. More than mere days. Should have given Freya the time to deal with whatever it was that was happening between the veils. </p><p>He kept staring into the water until his shoulders ached. She didn’t show. </p><p>*** </p><p> When Merlin opened his eyes, the light beaming in almost blinded him. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where he was or what last night’s poison of choice had been.  </p><p>Not alcohol, he thought, unless he’d had an IV drip of undiluted alcohol attached to his arm. Come to think of it, he did feel something sting his left arm.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Oh this is going to be good. </em> </p>
</blockquote><p>He ignored the voice, just as he always did and forced his eyes open so he could look at his forearm. He let out a baffled huff when he found someone had actually attached a tube to it. Shit. The tube went in and out of focus several times before Merlin’s vision finally cleared a little. He had more tubes and wires attached to his body, some to his arm, others to his chest. They lead to IV bags that hung overhead and machines that buzzed and beeped next to him. Merlin watched the steady drip of the IV and wondered what they’d given him. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Looks like it’s not just you with the needles this time. Got to love it when someone else does all the hard work for us. They could have upped the dose though. Amateurs. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin tried to reach over to pull the needle out, but white-hot pain shot through his body when he tried to move his arm. He felt as if he’d been run over by a …  </p><p>Memories came flooding in. </p><p>Merlin had been on his way to the small apartment he’d let just outside Camden Town. No that wasn’t it. He hadn’t been on his way to the apartment. He hadn’t arranged it himself either. Someone else had. Nadine. He’d been on his way to pick something up for Nadine. He’d been walking, his shoulders sore from spending a day behind a piano.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>That’s what you’re focused on? Skip forward. We’re about to get to the best part.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin looked down and inspected his injuries. He’d obviously gotten hurt on the way. Great.   </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Rewind. Honestly, you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you? Remember when we got hurt? Remember?  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin did. He’d been about to cross a street when he’d gotten distracted by a man across the street. Felt the urge to move forward. When he did the- </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Don’t you fucking dare. Back. BACK! </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>The image of the man came back to Merlin. The blond who’d all but crawled into the luggage compartment. Merlin remembered feeling a shift in the earth’s gravity. Rather than being pulled down, he was pulled forward. He remembered how all background noises had been filtered out until nothing was left but the sound of his own heartbeat. Not his own, he remembered. Something... someone else’s. He’d turned in the direction of the sound, had seen the sun reflect on someone’s golden hair and hadn’t been able to turn away. Hadn’t been able to ignore the pull, the want that suddenly flooded his entire self. All he had heard was a dull ringing in his ears. And then the world had followed the odd sensation and had actually turned upside down. </p><p>He remembered seeing the same shade of blond after he’d hit the pavement. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Look up. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin squeezed his eyes shut.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Look. Up. Merlin. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>*** </p><p>“Are you real?”  </p><p>A soft voice woke Arthur. He’d fallen asleep in his chair by Merlin’s bed after watching over him until the sun had started to rise again. After what they’d explained to Arthur had been a panic attack, the nurses had sedated Merlin. By the time Arthur had come back to the room, everything had quieted down. Another IV, the one with the sedative, had been attached to Merlin’s arm where only the faintest traces of blood remained. They had changed his bandages, his bedsheets. Made it look as if nothing had happened, almost as if those haunted panic-filled eyes had been nothing but a figment of Arthur’s imagination. The hospital staff had only agreed to let Arthur stay in there when he’d promised to call the hospital staff first, if Merlin so much as stirred. Arthur had watched Merlin closely for the rest of the night. He hadn’t moved.  </p><p>He hadn’t moved at all.  </p><p>Arthur looked in the direction the voice had come from. The morning sun came in through the window and steadily crept towards the bed Merlin was in.  </p><p>It had been his voice, Arthur realised. Merlin’s. Arthur stayed perfectly still for several long moments, afraid the slightest movement would trigger another panic attack. Afraid he’d imagined the voice coming from the bed.  </p><p>Arthur didn’t move. He spoke slowly, his voice gruff with sleep and emotion.  </p><p>“I am. Do you... Do you know who I am?” </p><p>Merlin nodded. He looked so small under those white sheets.  </p><p>“I think I do.” </p><p>“I’m –” </p><p>“Don’t say it.” Merlin’s voice rose a little. He took several deep breaths before speaking again. “Before you say anything, you have to know that I don’t remember.” </p><p>Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but Merlin continued. He sounded calm, a little distant, even. “Not because I’ve forgotten. But because I don’t want to. Not anymore. I’ve tried not to remember. It’s been,” Merlin closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, “it’s been a very long time.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“This really isn’t a dream?” </p><p>“It’s not.”  </p><p>Arthur knew he should get up and call the nurses. He’d promised them he would. He’d given them his word. He would get up. He’d push the red button they’d explained would notify them they were needed in Merlin’s room. He’d get up and walk over to Merlin’s side any second now, so he could push that damned button. He moved his arms to the chair’s armrest to push himself up, when Merlin spoke again.  </p><p>“I tried. At first. I tried to remember. I tried to make things right.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“I gave up. When I couldn’t, I gave up. I made myself forget.” </p><p>“Of course you did. Anyone would have.” </p><p>“I tried, Arth-” Merlin choked on the word, unable to say the name. “I really tried.” </p><p>“I believe you.” </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>Merlin thanking him felt like a punch to the gut. Did he really thank him after being left alone all this time? After being left defenceless? Arthur leaned forward, aware of Merlin’s eyes on him. He moved slowly.  </p><p>“I’m in a hospital.” </p><p>“You are. You got yourself hit by a car.” </p><p>Merlin groaned. “Of course I did.” </p><p>“I should let your physicians know you’re awake. There’s a button by your bed. Is it okay for me to walk over to you so I can press it?” </p><p>Merlin’s eyes flicked over to the device Arthur pointed at and then back to Arthur’s face. Arthur would have missed the nod if he hadn’t been focused on Merlin’s every move. He inched forward, much like he would if he was approaching a deer during a hunt. When he got up, his shadow fell over Merlin’s body. He noticed the way Merlin recoiled into his pillow, his bloodshot eyes squeezed shut. Arthur moved towards the man on the bed, making sure his footsteps were audible so Merlin knew exactly where Arthur was just in case he decided to open his eyes again.  </p><p>Arthur pressed the button and moved back, away from Merlin’s bed, just as he had the night before. As soon as his back was pressed against the wall, he cleared his throat.  </p><p>“They’re coming.” </p><p>Neither of them said a word. Merlin didn’t open his eyes again until a nurse came in and asked him to. When she noticed how unfocused Merlin was, she told Arthur to get out of the room. He didn’t argue and moved towards the door.  </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be down the corridor if you need me.” </p><p>Merlin whimpered.  </p><p>“I promise,” Arthur said, “I promise I’m not going anywhere.” </p><p>Merlin nodded and answered in what was barely more than a whisper, “I think this might be real.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for being here. Real life got in the way for a little while, but I'm back at it and more than ready to continue this rollercoaster of a ride we've all been on together since August. </p><p>This chapter's title song is Comfort of Strangers by Bastille. Give it a listen, you'll understand why. </p><p>As always: English isn't my first language and I don't have a beta, so feel free to let me know if you find anything that needs fixing. </p><p>Love, Bé</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. We both know that hope can't be prescribed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door clicked shut. </p><p>Merlin managed to hold it all in. </p><p>For a little while at least.  </p><p>He kept his trembling hands hidden under the covers, allowing the hospital staff get on with whatever it was they needed to do to Merlin’s body. Merlin barely felt their gentle touches, their probing and prodding. Everything was numbed out in that familiar way he'd come to recognise many years ago. Back when every single day, something was sure to remind him of everything he’d lost, Merlin had made a habit of closing off, just like he was now. It was a peculiar feeling, this. He was still aware of his surroundings. He felt most of what was being done to him, looked into a handsome nurse’s worried eyes, heard most of their questions and was pretty sure he even managed to answer a few. But he wasn’t really here. Not in any way that mattered, at least. Didn’t plan on coming back any time soon, either.  </p><p>As soon as the blond had left the room, a part of Merlin he didn’t know had ever been fixed, had broken all over again. The fragmented pieces that had taken so long to be stitched together again were now torn open, the raw wounds bare for the whole world to see. He felt it. He felt all the hurt and sorrow, everything he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for centuries now, crash into him, felt it rolling over him like the cruellest of tidal waves, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. The pain was crippling. More so than the wounds he felt he’d suffered during that accident everyone seemed so worried about. Couldn’t they see that was the least of his problems?  </p><p>Merlin faintly remembered this feeling from a long, long time ago. The feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping emptiness.  </p><p>One of the nurses checked his pulse.  </p><p><em>Not there</em>, Merlin wanted to scream, <em>that’s not where I’m bleeding. Don’t you see? </em> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Pathetic.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin moaned. A nurse asked him something. He nodded. Another question. Merlin shook his head. He wished they’d just leave him alone.   </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Not alone. Never alone. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>The sobs didn’t register for a long time. It took Merlin even longer to realise he was the one crying, until he lifted his hand to his face and touched his tear-stained cheeks.  </p><p>He barely noticed the people around him. Barely felt their hands run over the sorest spots underneath the bandages wrapped around his head. Someone shot him a sympathetic look and Merlin quickly turned his head. He had never been one to look pretty when he cried.  </p><p>Merlin winced when one of the nurses pressed an icy stethoscope against his back. When had he sat up? He couldn’t remember. All he could think of was the haunted look in Arth- in his eyes. He’d been asleep in the chair by the window when Merlin woke up, so Merlin had had the time to take it all in. The way the morning sun touched on that golden hair that framed a face Merlin was sure he’d have recognised amongst a thousand others a long time ago. Not now. The man’s scowl, an indication of a restless slumber, must have once looked familiar to Merlin. Now, the man’s features had become nothing but reminders of a long-forgotten dream.  </p><p>It was him. He was sure of it. Arth- </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Oh for fuck’s sake it’s a name. A name. Say it. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin had studied the man, before waking him, in an attempt to remember something, anything. Had tried his hardest to see anything that would jog his memory, but no matter how long he kept squinting at the man's features, his memories remained a blur. As they had been since long before he’d left Albion last. </p><p>Over the years Merlin had made himself forget.  </p><p>It hadn’t been enough. Despite Merlin’s best efforts to leave the past behind him, reality had caught up with him now. He hadn’t believed it ever would, not after the many centuries he had spent trying-  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>And failing. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>- to find a way to set things right. It was only when Merlin had come to terms with the fact that he had lost his magic, that he’d finally accepted there was nothing he could do to set things right. Nothing he could do to undo what had been done and recover what, and especially whom, had been lost. And with that realisation, relief had come over him. Acknowledging his powerlessness had been what had given him strength in the end.  He had been free. Had opened the door of the cage he had put himself in, only to realise the door had never even been locked in the first place. </p><p>He'd been at peace. Had accepted that some things would be lost forever.</p><p>And yet there was no doubt in Merlin's mind that the man who’d just left the room was... him.  </p><p>He felt it. A soft hum had spread through Merlin’s body as he’d lain there, watching the sleeping man in his uncomfortable armchair, as if the blood pumping through his veins sang the message all around Merlin’s body. <em>It’s him,</em> it sang. </p><p>
  <em>He’s back. </em>
</p><p><em>It’s him.</em>  </p><p>By the time the hospital staff had finished taking care of Merlin, he’d stopped crying. The dry sobs had lasted longer, but eventually they, too, died out. One of the nurses had introduced himself as Tom or something, a man with a soft smile and kind eyes and an incessant use of the word yeah. <em>Not Tom</em>, Merlin thought. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Who cares. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin’s shrug was immediately followed by a wince.  </p><p>The nurse told him they were going to take him up to another floor for some tests. Asked him if he needed anything. When they rolled his bed out into the corridor, Merlin’s gaze was pulled to his left, where he found Ar- <em>him</em> immediately. Saw him slumped down on the floor, his head leaned back against the bright white wall.  </p><p>Merlin's heart ached when the man’s face lit up upon seeing Merlin. His lips curled up into a tentative smile. Merlin tried to smile back. He probably succeeded, too, he thought, when they rolled the bed farther and farther away from the man on the floor. A muscle in Merlin’s neck protested at the stretch Merlin put upon it, as he tried to keep an eye on the man for as long as he possibly could.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Arthur watched the nurses as they wheeled Merlin’s bed off to wherever it was they did the tests Thomas told Arthur they were going to run. After having been assured by Thomas that no one would be back for at least thirty minutes or so, Arthur had made record time to the small hospital café a couple of floors down. Tea, he’d read in a magazine, fixed everything. He’d also overheard the nurses saying that the one down in the café was better than the one from what they’d called the vending machine.  </p><p>So that’s where Arthur went.  </p><p>There was a line of people waiting before Arthur. This wouldn’t do. Arthur tapped his foot and ignored the huffs and glares of the people around him. As far as he was concerned, they could scowl all they wanted. They had chosen to stand between him and the person who was going to serve him. The past couple of day had been unsettling enough. None of them had a clue how close they came to being flung against the walls by testing his patience the way they did. Arthur looked around the café. His eyes fell on a fish tank by the counter and he immediately unclenched his fists. There was no way he’d give Freya the satisfaction of using his lack of self-control against him. Slowly, he felt the impatient burning fade. The tapping of his foot on the linoleum tiles slowed. His heartbeat did, too, eventually. He winked at the fish tank and ignored the confused look of the man waiting in line behind him. </p><p>Arthur silently congratulated himself for his patience, when he made it to the front of the queue at long last. The servant girl behind the counter cleared her throat, prompting Arthur to order several items that, based on the small pictures next to the menu, seemed worth it. Tea. Coffee. Another kind of tea. The special of the day that was supposedly made with cinnamon and chocolate.  Cake. Something called a muffin. Two small loaves of bread that had holes in them and were covered in a bright pink concoction. More cake.</p><p>He paid the girl behind the counter with the bright orange note Maggie had given him, the one worth fifty gold, pocketed the change she gave him, and waited for her to finish his order. </p><p>And waited. </p><p>And waited.  </p><p>Merlin was probably back in his room by now. </p><p>“Damn it,” Arthur hissed, repeating the curse word he’d picked up from a patient in the room next to Merlin’s. The proud smile on his face quickly faded when he remembered just what had made him swear in the first place. When the servant girl finally finished preparing everything he’d ordered, the line behind Arthur had grown even longer than it had been when he entered the café. The girl handed Arthur the cardboard tray that held the drinks and three paper bags filled with food.  </p><p>Since the girl had taken her sweet time getting everything ready, one of the beverages had already cooled off significantly, so Arthur brought the tray up to his lips and murmured a spell. He was quick to close his eyes after catching the reflection of his red eyes in the fish tank. When he opened them again, the steam coming out of the lid covering the coffee cup, proved the spell had worked. A quick glance around the room confirmed no one had seen him.  </p><p>He exited the elevator and noticed the raised voices coming from Merlin’s room. People were arguing inside.  Arthur quickened his pace, striding towards the room as fast as he could without spilling the drinks over himself, or anyone else he might pass for that matter. Arthur didn’t notice Steven until the boy had already run up to him, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist. Noticing the boy’s upset face was enough to halt Arthur immediately. He looked from the door to Merlin’s room to the boy and back again, before crouching down so he was on eye level with Steven. He was careful not to get the hot drinks anywhere near the boy. </p><p>Arthur put a hand on Steven’s shoulder without saying anything, knowing the boy would start talking soon enough, if given the chance. </p><p>And he did. “He’s mean to nan,” Steven's eyes flickered from the door back to Arthur’s face.  </p><p>“Merlin?” </p><p>Steven nodded. “We arrived just as he got back to his room. Nan was real friendly and everything, until he started yelling at her. She told me to go outside and come wait for you after he called her a bitch.” </p><p>“A what?” </p><p>“A bitch. I don’t know what it means. It’s probably not very nice.” </p><p>Arthur frowned and tried to remember if he’d ever heard the word when scrying for his people. He remembered a farmer whose dog had just had a litter of pups. He’d called one of them a <em> bicce </em>. Arthur thought of Maggie’s kind face, her smile full of wrinkles and that dandelion seed coloured hair and couldn’t for the life of him imagine why Merlin would call the woman a dog. But apparently he had.  </p><p>“I... don’t think it’s a very nice thing to say either,” Arthur said. The arguing inside the room continued. Arthur now recognised both Merlin’s voice and Maggie’s. “I should probably go see if they need anything.” </p><p>“I don’t like him one bit.” </p><p>Arthur smiled at Steven and squeezed his shoulder before going inside. He paused at the door to see if the boy would be okay and arched his brow in an unspoken question. </p><p>Steven straightened his back and lifted his chin a little. “Go on. I can take care of myself.” </p><p>When Arthur walked into the room, the first thing he noticed was an angry blush on Merlin’s face. The man had gotten up into a seated position and looked like he was about to jump off of the bed and attack Maggie who, to Arthur’s surprise, looked just as fierce.  </p><p>Both were breathing heavily and looked as if they were readying themselves for another round of arguing when Arthur halted between the two of them. He placed the food and drinks on the small table by the window and put his hands up in the air briefly, before placing them on his hips.  </p><p>“Does anyone here care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, looking from Merlin to Maggie.  </p><p>Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Excellent question.” </p><p>“Your friend here,” Maggie said with a hint of mockery, “seems to have forgotten the meaning of the word manners.” </p><p>“Says the hag who barged in here uninvited.” </p><p>Maggie ignored Merlin, choosing to keep addressing Arthur instead. “I feel I may have overstayed my welcome, Sire. You have my sister’s number. You’re more than welcome to stay with us if you ever feel like being around people who are less,” she licked her lips and continued after a pointed look at Merlin, “impudent. If there is anything you need, please do call us.”  </p><p>She placed a hand on Arthur’s arm. “I know Steven would be pleased to see you again.” </p><p>“So would I.” </p><p>Arthur followed Maggie out into the corridor, where they found Steven waiting by the door. The boy moved away quickly, in a poorly executed attempt to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. When Arthur tried to apologise for Merlin’s behaviour, Maggie interrupted him. She took Arthur by the arm and led him away from the room, making sure they were out of earshot. Maggie still lowered her voice when she spoke again.  </p><p>“I was taught he didn’t feel any animosity towards us. Perhaps I was wrong to assume that was true,” she said with a kind smile, “Your friend has spent a long time on this earth, much longer than any person should have to. Without anything to live for. Or die for, I suppose. He needs you, Sire. Not just the magic you plan on returning to him.” </p><p>Arthur blinked. “You know?” </p><p>“I may be old, but I’m not blind. When you found us your eyes were blazing red.” Her face wrinkled with laughter. Athur couldn’t help but smile back at her. “I can feel it in the air around you both when you’re in the same room. It’s hard to miss.” </p><p>“Does Merlin know?” </p><p>“I’m not sure. It’s been so long since he’s had his magic. He may have forgotten what his feels like. I fear he’s forgotten many things.” </p><p>They didn’t say much after that. Maggie made Arthur promise to call as soon as “that gnarly old wizard” overstepped any more boundaries and assured him he’d have a proper bed and a shower waiting for him if he did.  </p><p>“That reminds me,” Maggie said. She rummaged through her oversized bag and fished out a small package, carefully wrapped in red paper. “It’s the one I was working on when you came back to us. I finished it yesterday. The colour should suit your eyes.” </p><p>Arthur thanked her and opened the gift. Inside, he found the bright blue scarf Maggie had made. Blue? He could have sworn it w- </p><p>“Don’t wait too long before coming to see us, Arthur,” Steven said, interrupting Arthur’s thoughts.  </p><p>With a smile, Arthur ruffled the boy’s hairs. “I won’t. Still have to finish our book, don’t we?” </p><p>“We do. You can keep it for now. That way I know you have to come see us again so you can give it back. Nan says it’s rude not to return something after you borrow it.” </p><p> </p><p>When Arthur returned to the room, Merlin seemed to have calmed down a little. The colour of his cheeks had gone down from a heated flush to the starchy white they had been before. Arthur wasn’t too sure which one he preferred.  </p><p>As soon as it became clear that neither of them had much to say, Arthur went over to the table he’d left the drinks on. They had cooled off. Arthur considered casting the heating charm again, but decided against it. He still wasn’t sure what Maggie and Merlin had talked about, and the last thing he wanted to do was spook Merlin, who was already far too on edge as it were.  </p><p>“It’s called coffee,” Arthur said as he turned around with the tray of cups. </p><p>Merlin’s eyebrow rose a bit higher. </p><p>“But I have tea, too. And something called a Cinnamon Surprise. I don’t know what you like, so I brought a bit of everything. There’s food too.” </p><p>When Merlin still didn’t answer, Arthur continued, “If you don’t like any of these, there’s also a water cooler in the hall, I could go and g-” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“No?” </p><p>“You don’t have to get anything else. The Cinnamon one sounds nice.” Merlin pursed his lips. “Thank you.” </p><p>Arthur nodded and brought the drink over to Merlin, still careful not to make any sudden movements, the image of the panic attack still clear on his mind. He didn’t hand the cup to Merlin, but chose to place it on his bedside table instead, after which he quickly retreated to go sit in his armchair by the window. </p><p>“Thank you,” Merlin said again. </p><p>“Yes. Of course.” </p><p>Neither of them spoke. The silence that hung between them was almost tangible. Merlin sighed and reached for the cup. His eyes went around the room as he drank, as if he was taking his time to study everything in it. Everything but Arthur, that was. Eventually, Merlin’s eyes fell on the book Steven had left behind.  </p><p>“Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales?” Merlin asked, a hint of a smile on his face. His eyes found Arthur’s. Finally. For the first time since he’d woken up, Merlin reminded Arthur of the man he’d once known. His blue eyes shimmered with mirth when he continued, “And yet you chose to defend the evil sorceress just now.” </p><p>“She’s not.” </p><p>“If you say so.” Merlin sank a bit further into his pillow. He groaned. </p><p>“I do. Are you hurting?” </p><p>“No more than before. They said it looked pretty... grim for a while.” Merlin chuckled. Even though Arthur tried to hide his confusion, Merlin soon picked up on it.  </p><p>“Hold on. You... You learned English.” Merlin raised his hand, as if to brush his hair out of his face, but lowered it after finding bandages instead. “I didn’t realise.” </p><p>“I have.” </p><p>“I- I don’t think I remember how to speak in- it's been... It’s been so long I-” </p><p>“It’s alright.” </p><p>Merlin looked at his hands.   </p><p>“It’s not that hard. I can figure out the meaning of most words,” Arthur said, breaking the silence that followed, “although you might want to explain to me what you were trying to say when you called Maggie a bitch, before.” </p><p>“I-” </p><p>“Does it mean dog?” </p><p>“Wh- what?” </p><p>“Bitch. Does it mean dog?” </p><p>“It... does?” </p><p>“She’s an old woman. You should have been more polite.” </p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes at that, before quickly changing the subject. “You said something about food?” </p><p>Arthur was quick to hand Merlin one of everything he’d bought. The sticky pink rolls with the holes in them were called doughnuts apparently. When Arthur said he didn’t think they tasted like nuts at all, Merlin almost choked on the large chunk of caramel muffin he’d just bitten off. Served him right.  </p><p>By the time they’d finished all the food Arthur had bought, the tension that had hung in the room had completely disappeared. They sat together in comfortable silence.  </p><p>Merlin was the first to break it. “Are you... are you alright?” </p><p>“You’re asking me?” </p><p>“I am.” </p><p>Arthur rubbed his thighs with his palms. “Well then. I suppose I am. Alright that is. Could have done without spending my first days back in a hospital.”  </p><p>Merlin’s lips twitched. “Awfully sorry for the inconvenience.” Then his eyes widened when Arthur’s last words sank in. “Days?” </p><p>“I managed to find my way back a few days ago. I-” </p><p>“Were you in pain?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“When... Wherever you were. Were you in pain?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Merlin nodded. “But you do remember.” It wasn’t a question. Not really. </p><p>“I do. Actually I wanted to t-” </p><p>“Stop.” Merlin’s voice sounded flat. “I... I mean, please, stop. I don’t want to hear it. Any of it. I can’t.” </p><p>Arthur swallowed. Merlin stared up at the ceiling again, eyes blinking quickly.  </p><p>“If you don’t want me to talk about it, I won’t,” Arthur cleared his throat. Merlin didn’t look at him after that. He pinched the bridge of his nose and kept looking up at the ceiling.  </p><p>“I read them to you,” Arthur said, after the silence had stretched on far too long to be anywhere near comfortable. If it had ever been that to begin with.  </p><p>Merlin shot him a puzzled look. </p><p>“The stories. They’re called fairy tales.” The worn book with its tattered cover was within reach, so Arthur picked it up. “When you didn’t wake up. I read them to you.” </p><p>When Merlin kept quiet, Arthur continued. He rubbed the back of the book while he spoke. “I could keep doing that, if you like. Or I could go. Maybe I should just-” </p><p>“No. Stay.” </p><p>Arthur felt his muscles relax. For a moment he’d thought Merlin would have preferred to be left alone.  </p><p>“I’m... I’m glad you’re here,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.” </p><p>“I suppose I could forgive you,” Arthur smirked, “but you did take that last muffin.” </p><p>Merlin’s sudden laughter filled the room. He quickly pressed a hand to his smarting ribs but didn’t stop. It was the most wonderful sound Arthur had heard in days. Maybe, Arthur thought, just maybe things could go back to the way they’d once been. They had this, once. The easy laughter, the joking around. Once. Merlin had said he didn’t remember, didn’t want to remember. But maybe, just maybe, Arthur could make him change his mind. </p><p>Arthur opened the book and started to read a story called The Seven Ravens. He told Merlin about a young girl whose father had cursed her seven brothers to live as ravens. Spoke of how she found out they had been cursed and tried to move heaven and earth to find them again, without knowing where to look, or what to look for.  </p><p>The story continued as the girl walked on and on until she arrived at the end of the world, where she found the sun. The sun burned too bright, so she ran to the moon, but found out it was far too cold. Finally, the girl made her way to the stars, who told her where she could find her brothers.  </p><p>Merlin fell asleep before the girl was reunited with the men, but Arthur kept reading anyways, engrossed in the story. Eventually, the girl was reunited with her brothers, who recognised her and turned into humans after a lifetime of being apart.  </p><p>“They hugged and kissed one another,” Arthur read, “and went home happily.” </p><p>With a sigh, he closed the book, running his hand over the worn bindings. He kept looking at Merlin for a long time, before eventually dozing off as well.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go again! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, I know I've enjoyed writing it! As always, feel free to let me know what you think! </p><p>The chapter's title song is<br/>- Medicine by Clara McHugh</p><p>Other songs that inspired this chapter were:<br/>- I don't mind by Joseph<br/>- Hold on by Chord Overstreet</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. I came with a warning but it drew you in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "Who are you?”  </p><p>Arthur looked up from his book to find a woman standing in the doorframe of Merlin’s room, silently glowering at him. After a quick glance at the bed to check if Merlin was still asleep, Arthur turned towards the woman and eyed her carefully. She was tiny. If he stood up, Arthur figured she’d barely reach his chest.   </p><p>Judging by her size alone, the woman probably wouldn’t be much of threat. Nevertheless, Arthur’s warrior instincts flared up. He trusted them, as he had many times before and took his time to assess the danger the woman might pose to him and the man on the bed. The woman’s bright red hair stood out against her black clothing. She’d dressed practically, Arthur noticed, although her clothing seemed to hug her curves just right. Her outfit allowed her to move freely, much like a fighter’s would. She wore a black leather jacket. Her shiny matching shoes reflected the morning sun when she tapped her foot on the tile floor. </p><p>“I asked you a question.” She folded her arms over her chest.   </p><p>The redhead had a heavy accent Arthur couldn’t quite place. <em>Great,</em> he thought. He already had enough trouble understanding what the people around him were saying. Now he had to try and filter out this woman’s accent as well.   </p><p>The woman arched a brow, clearly annoyed by the lack of response. “Well?” </p><p>Arthur couldn’t help but feel offended. Who was she to demand answers from him? She was the one who barged into Merlin’s room as if she had every right to be here.  </p><p>“Not that it’s any of your business,” Arthur sneered, “But I’m his friend.” </p><p>“No, you’re not.” </p><p>“Excuse me?” </p><p>“Oh, you heard me. Now go on. Who are you and what are you doing in Emrys’ room?” </p><p>“Who on earth is Emrys?”  </p><p>The woman’s lips curled into a victorious smirk. Arthur scowled in return.  </p><p>“Good,” she continued, “now that we’ve established that you do not, in fact know this man, I’ll kindly ask you to delete any pictures you might have taken and follow that up by getting the fuck out of here.” </p><p>“Not a chance,” Arthur growled. He dug his hands into the arm of the chair he was sitting in, scared he might accidentally set the woman’s hair on fire if she so much as threatened to throw him out again. Not that he’d mind, really. Besides, her hair already looked as if it was on fire, especially in the morning sun filtering in through the windows. He doubted anyone would notice straight away. But he figured that would definitely get him kicked out, and he had every intention of staying put.  </p><p>The woman walked up to him. Even in his seated position, Arthur didn’t have to tilt his head to make eye contact.  This didn’t make her look any less impressive though. The woman’s bright green eyes shone with anger. <em> She cares about him, </em> Arthur realised. <em> That’s why she looks as if she’s supposed to be here. Because she is. Supposed to be here. </em> </p><p>The realisation hit him. Maybe having this woman around wouldn’t hurt. Maybe, if she were here when Merlin woke up again, things would be better. He let go of the armrests, and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax them. When he spoke again, Arthur made sure to keep his voice level. </p><p>“Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here,” Arthur sighed, “I’m an old friend of Merlin’s. I was there when he...” Arthur nodded towards the bed.  </p><p>The woman tilted her head the moment Arthur mentioned Merlin’s name. </p><p>“No one calls him that,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Merlin.” </p><p>After that, she seemed to deflate, as if Arthur knowing Merlin’s name was enough to convince her they actually knew one another. The anger and protectiveness that had given her an aura of invincibility, left her, soon to be replaced by a face filled with worry as she turned towards Merlin. Arthur would have probably been offended, if he hadn’t felt the exact same way when looking at the man the first time he’d seen him after the accident. The woman’s shoulders sank a little and she took a seat on the bed, by Merlin’s feet, blocking Arthur’s line of sight. Arthur’s first instinct was to tell her to move out of the way, but he didn’t say a thing. He knew she probably was, in fact, close to Merlin and the fact that she’d chosen to put herself between Merlin and the stranger she'd found by his bed should have given Arthur a reason to trust her. It didn’t. Not really. Not as long as she sat there, blocking Merlin from view.  </p><p>“What’s your name?” she asked. Arthur went quiet for a moment, to make sure no sounds other than a steady breath came from the bed the woman sat on.  </p><p>“Arthur.” </p><p>She folded her arms again. “Is it?” </p><p>“What’s your problem?” Arthur’s patience was wearing thin. He shifted a little in his seat. </p><p>Instead of answering his question, the woman turned to look at Merlin. Arthur did the same. He hadn’t gotten used to the bandages or the bruises so he imagined it would take the woman a while to process the state her friend was in. He was right. When she finally turned back to Arthur, her eyes had filled up. She blinked several times before speaking again.  </p><p>“You’ve been here since the accident?” </p><p>“I have.” </p><p>“He doesn’t date blonds.” </p><p>Arthur didn’t answer. He didn’t want to risk her finding out he had no clue what the word date meant.  </p><p>“He doesn’t even like to spend time alone with them, really,” she continued, “or people named Arthur, for that matter. I’ve had to change someone’s name tag in the past after finding out their name was Arthur. And yet here you are.” </p><p>That gave him pause.  “You did what?” </p><p>“You heard me. I don’t know what you’re doing here and I definitely don’t know what to do about it,” she pulled at the sheets covering Merlin to straighten out the creases. When she spoke again, there was a hint of doubt in her voice, “And I am not used to not knowing.” </p><p>Arthur didn’t respond. Sometimes silence was the best answer. The woman seemed to think the same. The silence between filled the room, becoming almost tangible, until it drowned out the whirring of the machines attached to Merlin. Arthur didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t know what exactly she was looking for, but if she did in fact have the authority to force him out of this room, he’d rather not risk having to use magic to stay in. He doubted the hospital staff would be able to give it their all under the kind of pressure he’d put them under if it came to that. And it would come to that. If she made him. </p><p>Finally, the woman stood up from the bed. She had made up her mind and crossed the room in three strides and stood still before Arthur, her hand stretched out towards him.  </p><p>“Nadine Allard,” she said when he took her hand. Her grip was just a little too firm. The handshake just a second too long to be friendly.  </p><p>After another glance at Merlin, Arthur answered.  </p><p>“Arthur Pendragon.” </p><p>She frowned and opened her mouth to answer Arthur, when Merlin stirred behind her. They both turned their attention to Merlin, the moment he moved. The woman’s face softened, Arthur noticed. She really did care about him. Of course she did.  </p><p>This shouldn’t have upset Arthur. It really shouldn’t.  </p><p>If anything, he should have felt joy in finding out Merlin had managed to build a life here, since, so far he hadn’t seen any proof of it.  </p><p>The woman, Nadine, rushed over to the bed and pressed a kiss on Merlin’s cheek in a way that was almost intimate. Arthur narrowed his eyes when he noticed the easy manner in which she placed her hand on Merlin’s shoulder. When she spoke, Arthur couldn’t make sense of the words. He recognised Merlin’s name and saw Merlin flinch as soon as the woman said Arthur’s. He heard the name of the bus station where the accident had happened, the name of the hospital and then Merlin’s again. Twice. Everything else was a messy combination of rolling Rs and a sing-song of drawn-out vowels. Merlin answered her in her own language, glancing in Arthur’s direction every so often. </p><p>The second time the woman said Arthur’s name, her tone of voice changed. She glared at Arthur who was still sat in his chair by the window and shook her head at Merlin. He answered her in a clipped tone, his voice stronger now. As Merlin raised his voice, hers went up too. If it hadn’t been for the fact that that woman still held onto Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur would have probably gotten up.  </p><p>He watched the hand she’d placed there, focusing on it while their sparring match of foreign words continued. The familiarity of it all struck Arthur. He’d had this, once. He remembered a time where his conversations with Merlin, their bickering and the occasional touch had been familiar. Had it looked like this, to others too? Merlin and the woman looked as if they’d be at each other’s throats within moments, until you looked closer. Then, the gentle way the woman held onto Merlin’s shoulder while snarling at him became apparent. The contrast between the irritation in Merlin’s voice and the comfortable position he still seemed to be in. They had done this before, Arthur realised. This clearly wasn’t the first time the two of them bickered and argued. And cared about each other while doing so. All of a sudden Arthur felt like an intruder. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and looked away.  </p><p>After a while, the woman sighed and got up.  </p><p>“<em>Comme tu veux, Merlin.</em>” The woman’s disapproval couldn’t be more obvious. She tore her gaze off of Merlin and looked at Arthur. “Merlin has asked me to let you into his apartment. He seems to think you don’t have anywhere else to stay.” </p><p>When Arthur didn’t answer, she continued, “You can come with me. Right now.” </p><p>When Merlin gave him an encouraging nod, Arthur got up and followed the woman. Neither of them said a word during their walk to the elevator, nor the ride down into the lobby. Arthur followed her to the taxi rank in front of the hospital, where a long line of bright yellow London cabs stood waiting for customers. She got in and barely waited for Arthur to join her before typing in the address the automated vehicle would take them to. She slid her credit card into the slot and leaned back.  </p><p>Arthur sighed and looked out the window. Had it only been a couple of days since they drove into the city?  </p><p>The woman, Nadine, was the first to break the silence. “He trusts you.” </p><p>“And you don’t think he should.” </p><p>“I don’t.” </p><p>Arthur nodded. “I’m glad he’s had someone to look out for him. You appear to be quite skilled.” </p><p>“He told me the two of you were... friends. Once.” </p><p>“We were.” </p><p>“He also said to me that you’ve stayed by his side while he was in the hospital.” She pushed her hair back. Arthur noticed a small star-shaped tattoo behind her ear. </p><p>“I did.” </p><p>“And you didn’t think to contact his in case of emergency?”  </p><p>Arthur felt his cheeks burn. “I didn’t... realise.” </p><p>Nadine huffed. The stayed quiet until they arrived at the Merlin’s apartment. Nadine pulled her card from the slot and motioned for Arthur to get out of the car after pressing the “Wait here” button followed by the “30 minutes” one. She didn’t look back to see if Arthur followed her but walked up the stairs to an old building. “He said you can stay here for as long as you like. I’ll have you know that an inventory has been made up before Merlin got here. If anything goes missing, I will know.” </p><p>Her threat was an ill-concealed one. “Understood,” Arthur said.  </p><p>She held the door open for Arthur to walk into Merlin’s home. It didn’t feel very homely. The living room was spacious, with its high ceilings and sleek black and white furniture. Arthur walked over to the tall windows and looked out onto the street, where the bright yellow vehicle was still waiting. He barely paid Nadine any mind as she explained to him which days the servant would come to take care of things and what was expected of him as he stayed in Merlin’s flat.  </p><p>Arthur nodded and kept looking out the window, lost in thought. He fiddled with the chain around his neck.  </p><p>Nadine cleared her throat. “Are you deaf? I asked if you’ll stay with him once he’s released from the hospital?” When Arthur turned around it didn’t surprise him to find her with her hands on her hips. He smiled at her only to get an arched brow in return.  </p><p>“I will.” </p><p>“Good, because I have to be back in Paris soon. I’ll stay for as long as I can, but...” Her voice trailed off when she started to look for something in her purse. She took a phone out. “You should probably give me your number.” </p><p>Arthur did not look forward to admitting to her he didn’t have one. Her incredulous gasp when he did, didn’t come as a surprise at all.  </p><p>*** </p><p>Merlin recovered quickly. The hospital staff didn’t bother to hide their surprise at the incredible recovery. Merlin didn’t feel compelled to tell them he hadn’t really stayed sick or hurt for long in the past fifteen centuries. Such a comment might raise unnecessary questions after all. He figured he could be out of here soon. The only question that remained was: then what? </p><p>Merlin’s phone chimed. He grabbed it with a smile on his face.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Greetings Merlin, I hope this message finds you well. I will be taking the Underground shortly and make my way to the hospital. I have packed your laptop as requested and will take good care of it.  Kind regards, A.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>He had caught onto the fact that Merlin found it hard to hear his name. Now he didn’t even use it in messages. Although Merlin figured he might have to talk to Ar- Him about how unnecessary this way of messaging was, even if it was sort of endearing.  </p><p> </p><p><b> I’ll be right where you left me  </b>😉, Merlin texted back.  </p><p> </p><p>Nadine had given Art- Him - </p><p></p><blockquote>
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    <em>Oh come on don’t be so pathetic </em>
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</blockquote><p>- the phone. She’d been an absolute nightmare to Merlin about the absurdity of this whole situation, but it hadn’t made a difference. Merlin had made up his mind and even though Nadine had been perfectly clear about where she stood on the matter, she'd taken care of what Merlin asked of her. Like she always did. He didn’t know where this would all lead, but he couldn’t just let Him get away again. Not after all this time.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Not now that you’re hoping to get into those tight little jeans. Be honest, Merlin. I am.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It had felt weird at first, being in the same room as Him, but with each new fairy tale that was read to Merlin, some of the awkwardness disappeared. Every time He came into the room and spoke of another thing He’d discovered in the city, the conversation between them seemed to flow just a little easier. Merlin quite enjoyed those stories, the scenes coloured by His medieval filter. </p><p>A part of Merlin wished he could have been there to discover it all with Him. But then the blond would enter his room with that bright smile of his, along with a tourist souvenir He’d picked up on the way over to the hospital and it would all be forgotten. The way He told about his discoveries with what could only be described as boyish excitement, brought such joy to Merlin’s days. It really did feel as if Merlin had been right there with Him.  </p><p>They ate together, the hospital food quickly traded in for the exotic things He would bring back from his ventures outside. Merlin smiled at the memory of those two large portions of fish and chips that had been placed on his bedside table as if they were a precious commodity. He’d been so excited for Merlin to give it a try. Merlin hadn’t had the heart to explain fish and chips were actually pretty common and had eaten with a smile on his face and grease dripping off of his fingers.  </p><p>Neither of them ever breached the subject of their life together, so very long ago, the people they’d known and lost or the time spent since. He didn’t bring it up, and Merlin wasn’t going to either. At times, Merlin sensed the man by his bed was going to start talking about it. Or wanted to at least. It was obvious in the way his shoulders tensed and his breathing quickened. He never did, no matter how close He may have come. It was as if He was waiting for Merlin to indicate he was ready, which, if he was honest to himself, he probably wouldn’t be for a very long time.  </p><p>Every time Merlin changed the subject, He’d simply smile and go along with it.  </p><p>He’d been so patient. So understanding in the way He gave Merlin the space he needed. Hadn't spoken of the memories they had once shared, hadn’t even touched Merlin again. No matter how close they’d sat together. They hadn’t touched. Merlin wasn’t sure if he was grateful for this or not.  </p><p>“Now that’s a sigh if I’ve ever heard one.”  </p><p>Merlin smiled at the blond standing in the doorway.  </p><p>“That was fast.” </p><p>“I told you I didn’t get lost before. The Underground lines’ names changed overnight that first time,” he said, that boyish grin bright as the sunlight that fell on his face. “I even helped a <em>tourist</em> to find their way today.”  </p><p>Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle at the way He said the word tourist, as if it were something bad. “Keep that up and you’ll be a local in no time.” </p><p>“Damn right.” Merlin didn’t miss the proud gleam in His eyes at the use of the swear word. </p><p>He took three long strides towards Merlin’s bed and placed a messenger bag on it. “The charging rope’s in there, too. I checked.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Merlin said before carefully opening the bag. He took out the laptop and ran his hand over it. “I’ll make sure to tell Nadine you’re the reason I’m finally getting back to work. My life would definitely be easier if the two of you got along.” </p><p>The blond huffed when Merlin mentioned his assistant’s name. The two of them had definitely gotten off on the wrong foot. There wasn’t much to be done about it anymore as it was, especially since Nadine kept bugging Merlin to give her an explanation he didn’t have. He’d told her an old friend had showed up around the time he had his accident. That was all he could tell her anyways. </p><p>She’d been as sceptic about the whole thing as could be expected, knowing full well how many friends Merlin had had over the years who’d been blonds.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>None</em>.  </p>
</blockquote><p>Or were named Ar- </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Yeah. Sure. Pretend you’re saying it. Think if I roll my eyes hard enough, that you could hear them? </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“- course I had to order two more after that,”He said. Merlin wondered just how obvious it was that he hadn't been paying attention. Even if it had been noticeable, He didn’t seem to mind.  </p><p>Merlin nodded in the hopes that would be the right reaction. Apparently it was.  </p><p>“Will you show me how it works?” He asked.  </p><p>“The laptop?”  </p><p>“Yes!” He didn’t even bother concealing his enthusiasm. Merlin opened his Macbook Pro and let out a content sigh himself when he heard the familiar chime after turning it on. He readied himself for the endless stream of questions he knew would come and patiently answered every single one of them, until finally, He asked, “And how exactly do you use this for work?” </p><p>Merlin felt the tips of his ears turn red and wondered if his bandages covered them.  </p><p>“I... compose.” </p><p>“Compose?” </p><p>“It’s writing. But rather than words, you write music. Might as well show you, I guess.” </p><p>Merlin opened a folder and chose a file. He leaned back and closed his eyes as the music he’d written filled the small hospital room. It was the score for the film he’d been working on the day of his accident. The theme he’d chosen for the soldier on his way back home. A lonely note rang. And kept ringing. Until slowly the gentle sound of harp strings washed over it, complemented it. The music swelled and filled the room. The emptiness between the notes no longer felt awkward and stilted, but more like a breather, a place of rest rather than one filled with loneliness.  </p><p>Merlin didn’t look at Him until the last note ended. And not even then. He stayed silent.  </p><p>“You wrote this?” He asked. </p><p>The emotion in His voice confused Merlin for a moment. Of course that’s what he’d intended while writing the score, but seeing his music move someone right next to him felt different.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Oh please. You couldn’t care less about moving someone. It’s because it’s him. It’s Arthu- </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin coughed. When he spoke, Merlin’s voice sounded strangled “I take it you shutting up for five whole seconds is a good thing?”  </p><p>This earned him their first touch since Merlin had woken up; a punch to the shoulder.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Not exactly the kind of touching you had in mind? </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>*** </p><p><b>Good evening, Merlin. I came across the funniest scene after leaving the hospital this evening. People have their children on leashes nowadays.</b> <b>I hope you are well. Greetings, A.</b></p><p> </p><p><b> I’m okay, thx. Should be out of here in a day or two. Nadine came by. Said she’d tried to call you earlier.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur pulled a face, glad Merlin couldn’t see his expression. He still hadn’t warmed up to the woman. They had spoken a couple of times since she’d helped him settle in at Merlin’s apartment. He knew he should probably try harder to clear the air between them, but he hardly thought of her as a priority. It was her fault Arthur now had to leave the hospital in the evenings. He was convinced she’d been the one to remind the staff of the existence of something called visiting hours.  </p><p>He probably wouldn’t have bothered with her at all, if it hadn’t been for the obvious effect her presence had on Merlin’s state of mind. Her being around seemed to centre him. Arthur had noticed the small notes she’d left by his bed and the box of chocolates that had suddenly appeared. The day after, Arthur had brought Merlin a large sack full of sweets called fudge. Arthur’s had been bigger, although he had to admit to himself he preferred the taste of Nadine’s chocolates. Still, Merlin had seemed happy with the fudge and that had been enough for him.  </p><p> </p><p><b> You know I can see when you’ve read my message right? Everything ok? </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> Yes I am quite alright, thank you. I will return her call in the morning. Greetings.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur’s phone chimed again.  <b> How’s my flat?  </b> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> It’s quite luxurious. I do not think I will ever get used to indoor plumbing. It is quite amazing.  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Arthur couldn’t wait to tell Freya about all of this. He’d tried to reach her several times, but hadn’t managed. He knew that by now she was probably back in Avalon, back on the shore they’d once shared. And still, there was no sign of her whenever he tried to make contact. He wondered if there was something wrong with the water she’d put in the vial, but knew there was no way to find out if there was. Nothing to do about it but keep trying. So he did.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water. Save some for when I come back.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur wondered, not for the first time, if Merlin wanted him to stay once he came back to his home. So far he hadn’t said anything to indicate he didn’t. If anything, Merlin seemed to enjoy Arthur’s company. It was clear in the way his face lit up whenever Arthur entered the room, in his patient manner when showing Arthur new things on his computer, just like he had earlier, when-  </p><p>Gods, that music. Before Arthur had left, Merlin had put the music from the computer on Arthur’s phone. He’d listened to it over and over again on his way back to Merlin’s home and still couldn’t believe Merlin had been the one to create such wondrous melodies.  </p><p> </p><p><b> No promises, </b> Arthur finally texted, after he’d pressed the button that would make the phone play Merlin’s music again.   </p><p> </p><p>Merlin’s answer came moments later.<b> Tease.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>😉 </p><p> </p><p><b> Oh of course NOW you start using emojis. </b>🙄 </p><p> </p><p><b> I’m a fast learner, Merlin. I have to be, if I want to keep up with your ridiculous </b> ☕ <b> orders.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> Speaking of, venti soy chai latte double shot of espresso tomorrow, please.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> I will try my very best.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> Thank you.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> You’re welcome.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> I mean it.  </b> Another message followed within seconds. <br/><b> Thank you. For everything. I’m happy you’re here.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> I’m happy to be here.  </b> </p><p> </p><p><b> Good.  </b> </p><p> </p><p>Arthur smiled at his phone and traced its edges with his finger. Merlin sent one last message to let Arthur know the nurses were coming in and planned on running more tests, ending the message with a face that looked like it was throwing up. Arthur hoped this didn’t mean the nurses planned on actually making Merlin throw up. He doubted they would, but you couldn’t be too sure.  </p><p>No more messages appeared and Arthur moved towards the kettle he’d placed on Merlin’s black table, the one next to the strange bed Nadine had called a sofa.  </p><p>He sat on the bed and leaned forward to look in the kettle he’d filled with water earlier that day. He let a drop of lake water fall into it and dipped a finger into it before turning it counter-clockwise three times.  </p><p>“Freya,” Arthur whispered. He didn’t expect her to show up. Expected the water to stop moving and show the bottom of the silver kettle, just as it had before.  </p><p>“Arthur?” </p><p>Arthur was glad he was already sitting down. He leaned closer to the water’s surface, angry at himself for not choosing to fill Merlin’s gigantic bath tub, so he could get a better look at her. She was there, his Freya. Her face looked more familiar to Arthur than his own even if this was the first time he’d seen it through the veil.  </p><p>“You’re alive,” he said as soon as he finally managed to get the words out.  </p><p>“Did you hit your head again? We’ve been over this years ago. I’m dead, remember. Really dead.” </p><p>Arthur ran a hand through his hair, laughing.  </p><p>“I miss you.”   </p><p>“Me too.” She sounded tired.  </p><p>Arthur leaned forward and noticed how frazzled Freya looked. Her hair was a mess, her face smudged with dirt and-  </p><p>“Are you hurt?” </p><p>She raised her hand to the bruise on her cheek and nodded. “It’s bad.” </p><p>“What’s going on?” </p><p>“I don’t... I don’t know. Not yet. I’m meeting with the other Keepers soon. The people who were stuck here, the ones who couldn’t move on. Some have disappeared, fallen through the cracks. Others have started to appear out of nowhere. The whole place is falling apart. It’s–” Freya bit her lower lip. This, Arthur knew, meant she was upset.   </p><p>“What’s that?” Freya tilted her head and leaned forward. “Is that... music?” </p><p>“It’s Merlin’s,” Arthur said without thinking. Freya gasped.  </p><p>Oh.  </p><p>Right.  </p><p>He hadn’t told her yet. Arthur looked at her and felt his cheeks burn with how wide he grinned. “I found him.” </p><p>Freya beamed at him. “You...”  </p><p>Arthur simply nodded. They both grinned stupidly at each other for a while after that. Neither of them said a word, until Freya finally asked the question Arthur knew would come.  </p><p>“Have you figured out a way to give Merlin’s magic back yet?” </p><p>He shook his head. “He doesn’t know I have it.” </p><p>Freya’s brows knitted together at that.  </p><p>“He’s... I couldn’t tell him. I’ve wanted to but he’s no longer the person we once knew.”  </p><p>“He could be, when you give it back to him.” </p><p>“I know,” Arthur said. </p><p>“He’s waited long enough.” </p><p>“I know,” Arthur said again. </p><p> </p><p>They both stayed silent for a while. Arthur swallowed and looked at his friend. </p><p>“It’s his. I know I have to tell him and give it back to him, Freya. I do. I figured it would be easier, but as it turns out, I’m just not ready to die again.” </p><p>She leaned forward and shot him a sad smile.  </p><p>“I know,” she said, echoing Arthur’s words. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title song:<br/>Just say something - Nathan Ball</p><p>Other songs that influenced this chapter:<br/>Head and Heart on fire - Léon<br/>Better yet - James Spaite<br/>Simple things - Alexander Cardinale</p><p>I know I keep thanking you all for being here every time I post a chapter. The thing is, I probably wouldn't have half as much fun doing this without hearing your thoughts on the story, the characters, the plot... This story deserves to be written and I am definitely a big fan of "writing fanfics you would like to read yourself", but the truth is that without the support I get from the people here, this fic wouldn't have become the story it is today and might as well have ended up on my ever-growing WIP pile.<br/>So in a way, you're helping me write this. How neat is that ;) </p><p>Thanks Effie, for helping me silence my inner Dragoon. He was definitely there this chapter. Without you I wouldn't feel half as confident posting this today.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. You remind me just how good it can get</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur promised Freya he’d tell Merlin where his magic had gone. After explaining to her what a phone call was, she made him tell her he’d call Merlin in the morning. He told her he would. Twice. The next morning, while he was casting a spell to cool down the piping hot bath water he’d managed to fill the tub with, Arthur promised himself he’d tell Merlin when he got to the hospital. There was no use in calling him, if he'd see him in less than an hour anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his way to the hospital, Arthur used Merlin’s magic to keep a young girl from running a red light. The child's Mum had been too busy typing on her phone to notice how the girl got yanked back instead of ending up in front of the oncoming traffic. When Arthur walked into Merlin’s room, he still felt the familiar buzz of power coursing through his body. It grew even stronger after entering the room,  like it always did whenever he was near the man on the bed. Arthur looked at Merlin and felt his jaw twitch when Merlin's blue eyes found his. This was it. Arthur opened his mouth; his lips started to form the words he needed, when  Merlin leaned forward, hand stretched out for the coffee order Arthur had almost forgotten about on his way here. Merlin's fingers brushed against Arthur's when he closed his hand around the styrofoam cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Arthur.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. </span>
  <span>Merlin, who’d just said Arthur’s name for the first time in years, smiled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur couldn’t bring himself to wipe that rare and precious smile off of Merlin’s face. Couldn’t bring himself to ruin this moment. So as he handed Merlin his coffee, the only words to leave his mouth were a clipped </span>
  <span>“Here you go,” and a “You’re welcome” after Merlin thanked him.</span>
  <span> <em>Later</em>, he said to himself. <em>I’ll tell him later.</em> </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t tell him later, either. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Not even when the perfect opportunity presented itself. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t they have anything better to write about,” Merlin growled as he tossed the copy of the Sunday Times Arthur had brought with him that day, to the foot of his bed. “Ridiculous. I'd have expected this from the tabloids, sure. But the Times!?” Merlin glared at the heap of paper on his bed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur had been pretending to study a map of London, while he was trying to come up with the right way to breach the subject of magic. He looked up from the map and arched a brow. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes at the newspaper, as if whatever was in there had insulted his very being. Arthur’s lips twitched and he reached for the paper. </span>
  
</p><p><strong>First Black Dragon Sighting in Wales in 15 years</strong>, was printed in bold letters on the top of the front page. Arthur frowned.</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, the word dragon, does it mean what I think it does?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Merlin rolled his eyes again. It pleased Arthur to notice all the red in them was gone now. The familiar pale blue was no longer framed by the dark red the doctors had called </span>
  <span>hyphema</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragons don’t exist,” Arthur said. “Do they?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They did, once. It’s been centuries since I’ve last seen one.” Merlin didn’t look at Arthur as he spoke, for the first time, about his past.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve... seen a dragon?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin </span>
  <span>nodded,</span>
  <span> his eyes still fixated on a patch on the wall where the paint had started to crack ever so slightly. “I have.” He swallowed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur leaned back, knowing Merlin would either elaborate or he wouldn’t. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He did. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It makes no sense for this to be in the newspapers. No one knew they existed. And they don’t anymore. They did, though. Dragons were real. I had...” Merlin’s breathing was shallow. Arthur was pretty sure that, had he still been attached to the medical equipment, his heartbeat would be all over the place right now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was something called a Dragonlord once. I guess I probably still am.” Merlin shrugged. The movement didn’t seem to bother him anymore. He really was doing better. </span>
  <span>“Not that there are any dragons left. There could be a white one, somewhere. But this?” He pointed at the paper in Arthur’s hands. “Bullshit. So it’s a pretty hollow title anyways. Lord of absolutely nothing at all. Just one more thing to add to the list of Whatever-the-fuck-Merlin-isn't-anymore.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur flinched at the iciness in Merlin’s voice. The sudden movement was what finally made Merlin look at him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not a warlock anymore, either,” Merlin said after his eyes found Arthur’s, “just so you know. I don’t have it anymore. My magic, that is.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Closed it again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Leaned forward. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Took a deep breath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Another one. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ignored Merlin’s look of confusion at his odd reaction. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowed once. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Twice. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And let out a sigh of relief when, right at that moment, Thomas came into the room, carrying Merlin’s lunch. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Three days later, the doctors declared Merlin fit to leave the hospital. He’d healed up nicely and even though his leg was still in a cast and he’d been told his broken ribs would still hurt like hell for weeks to come, there really was no reason for them to keep him at the hospital any longer. They needed the bed for someone else. Merlin thought he’d heard one of the nurses say something about a smallpox outbreak, which was ridiculous. The disease had been eradicated years ago.</span>
  
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Decades, imbecile. </em>
    
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Right. Decades.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span> Both Arthur and Nadine accompanied him in the back of the ambulance that took him to Camden Town. The exasperated paramedic they’d bullied into letting the both of them join had given up after a couple of half-hearted attempts at making one of them leave the vehicle. They really had been a force to be reckoned with, as soon as they’d teamed up. Merlin was pretty sure he’d even seen the hint of a smile, directed at Arthur, on Nadine’s face at some point. She’d deny it ever happened, of course. And Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to torment her if given the chance. So he decided against mentioning it to either of them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The paramedic helped Merlin up the stairs, careful not to let Merlin put any weight on his still-injured leg. When they got to the flat, Merlin wasn’t surprised to notice the physical therapy equipment that had been set up between his still unfamiliar furniture. He nodded his thanks to Nadine, who simply responded by saying, “Of course.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The living area still looked as spotless as it had when Merlin had moved in. If he hadn’t known Arthur spent almost two weeks here, he wouldn’t have guessed it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked at the blond standing by the bedroom door, holding it open for the paramedic to help Merlin settle in. Arthur, who’d filled Merlin’s days with laughter and exuberant stories about his discoveries in the city of London. Arthur, who’d been patient with Merlin and had sat by his bedside while Merlin worked through the panic attack that had hit him, when Merlin had tried to bring up the subject of their life together so very long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of Merlin still wanted to know what had happened to the man, quite possibly the same part that wondered about the forgotten memories. Another part of him felt like pushing Arthur away and going on living the life he’d built for himself over the years. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was the part of Merlin that only came out during their intimate conversations late at night, the one that whispered of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if</span>
  </em>
  <span>s</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>and had Merlin wonder if this could just... be. Without any of the baggage of previous lives, his failure to protect him, even back when he’d still had his magic, and the burden of knowing that now, without his magic, there was absolutely no way for Merlin to keep this man safe from harm. The what ifs and maybes were driving him crazy. They felt a lot like hope, a feeling Merlin had come to learn never lasted long. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Lastly, of course, there was the part of Merlin that  - </span>
  
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Look at him. Just look at him standing there. Forced to take care of you in this pathetic state. Can’t even act like the shit servant you once were. Pa – the – tic. Lusting after someone like him, knowing full well you have nothing to offer. Nothing at all.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t look at Arthur as the paramedic helped him hobble over to the bed. They’d left Merlin’s crutches by the front door.  </span>
  
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Don’t ignore me. Look at you. Lost your magic. Lost your sanity. Good thing you still have me. Cause what else have you got?  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>“I... I think I need some rest,” he said, addressing the paramedic instead of Arthur or Nadine. He didn’t look at them, suddenly aware of the sympathetic looks he’d find on their faces. With his eyes still on the paramedic, he nodded when they spoke to him, assuming that was the reaction they needed and closed his eyes until they shut the door to his room behind them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin tried to focus on their muffled voices, coming from the living room, but couldn’t hear them over Dragoon’s incessant laughter.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nadine gathered her things soon after the paramedic had left the apartment and was about to head out again. “You will call me the moment anything happens.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question. Arthur knew Nadine didn’t expect a response either. Nevertheless, he hummed briefly in agreement, before saying, “Thank you. For everything you’re doing. I know you work for him, but I just wanted to let you know I’m aware none of this is a part of your job description, and you’re doing it anyways.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rested his hand on the exercise equipment Nadine had ordered for Merlin and made sure she was looking at him when he continued, “He is lucky to have you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nadine eyed him over, like she did so very often whenever they were in the same room, and pursed her lips. “Merlin needs someone to look after him. Keep him from making... bad decisions.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur chuckled. “And you still think I’m one of those.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to make of you, Arthur,” she said. “All Merlin will tell me is that it’s none of my business.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t bother to hide her frustration at that. “And you’re not exactly sharing much either. I’ll tell you this though, anything that concerns Merlin, is <em>definitely</em> my business, regardless of whether or not he thinks it is. And not just because that actually </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> a part of the </span>
  <span>job</span>
  <span> he pays me to do.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I care about him, too, you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably do.” She sounded tired.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nadine sighed and rested her head against the front door for a moment. She straightened her back and rolled her shoulders, causing the leather of her jacket to squeak softly.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Make sure he eats. And don’t you dare bring drugs in here.” Nadine stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Arthur stared at it for a long time after she left before heading back to the kitchen. She was right, Merlin really was far too thin. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur mumbled a quick spell to make sure the tray of food he was balancing didn’t topple over while he knocked on the door to Merlin’s room. The bright red reflection of his eyes on the metal door knob gave him pause. He sighed, the weight of his unspoken confession heavier and heavier with each passing hour. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Merlin said. The grin on the man’s face when he saw Arthur brought food with him, almost made up for the burn he’d suffered when getting this feast out of the oven. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re ready, everything went perfectly this time. Prepare for the best culinary experience of your life.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur beamed at Merlin when he lowered the tray to show him his perfectly browned </span>
  <em>Dr.</em>
  <span><em> Oetker Pizza Speciale</em>. Merlin's jaw dropped. Arthur beamed with pride. That was until Merlin burst out in laughter. Merlin laughed so hard, not a single sound came out anymore. Every couple of seconds a hissing wheeze left his mouth. Apart from that. Nothing. Arthur scowled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Merlin, I don’t see what’s so funny about this. This is the best one I’ve made so far.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You... You’re proud of... Frozen...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you pompous sod, I’d be more than happy to eat it myself.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, wait!” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have shown you the respect you deserve... for... accomplishing this... This... ” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tears streamed from Merlin’s eyes when another fit of laughter came over him. Tears! He didn’t even bother to contain his laughter, the insufferable ingrate. Arthur huffed. The man was giggling. Giggling! It was the most beautiful sound Arthur had ever heard, not that he’d ever tell Merlin that, of course.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It took Merlin at least three slices to finally settle down. He tried apologising again, but was quickly silenced by Arthur who knew the apology would just lead to another string of snorts and giggles. Arthur changed the subject to something he figured wouldn’t end in mockery, and told Merlin of how he went running in Regent’s park that morning. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When your physical therapy equipment came in, there was a set of trainers in my size, too,” Arthur explained. He didn’t mention Nadine was the one who made all the arrangements. Didn't share his gratitude for the fact that she'd thought of him when making her purchases. Merlin’s cheeky smirk betrayed that he knew what Arthur was thinking about, anyways. Why bother with having to say it out loud, then, right? “People go running for fun. It’s ridiculous.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>So,</span>
  <span> did you? Have fun?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So much for ridiculous, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you were about to stop making fun of me, after I changed the subject. That's how that works.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Must have missed the memo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes and started to clear their plates.  He left for the kitchen, where he put them in the dishwasher. Merlin’s chambermaid had come in a week ago and had taken care of everything around the flat, while Arthur was at the hospital. When he came back, there was a note on the table, and sure enough, he’d found the plates and cups in the thing she’d called the dishwasher. So far, none of the dishes he’d put in there after that day, had come out clean yet. He should probably try pushing some of the buttons he’d found on the thing. Later. When he had the time to figure out what it was that made the dishwasher work its magic. He’d been made fun of enough for one evening, thank you very much. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Merlin hobbled out of his bedroom on his crutches. Arthur took his time to look at him. He looked well-rested, the dark circles under his eyes almost completely gone. His dark hair stood up at the back from sleeping all afternoon and his beard had evolved from simply scruffy to full-on hermit-in-the-woods. He wore a wrinkled white shirt that was definitely too large for his slim body and </span>
  <span>checkered</span>
  <span> flannel pyjama bottoms. “Arthur, you’re staring.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Right. He was. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just good to see you’re up on your feet,” was all he had to offer. </span>
  <span>Apparently,</span>
  <span> it was enough. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for much longer, if I can help it. I’m sick of being in bed all the time, though</span>
  <span>. Figured I could use a change of scenery. Sofa looks very inviting.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see if I got that right. The moment you’re sick of your bed, you’re trying to weasel your way into mine?” Ah, payback. It took about three seconds for Merlin’s cheeks to flush a bright pink. Served him right for mocking Arthur’s cooking before. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t- I meant...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. Get over here. You can tell me what the black mirror’s for.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Black mirror?” Merlin followed Arthur’s pointed finger and tried to mask his chuckle by faking a cough. “Right, that’s a television.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur didn’t understand much of what Merlin said next. It got even more confusing when Merlin tried to show him the little people inside the black box. After a while, he caught on. They were similar to the videos Arthur had made with his phone while he'd been out discovering this new world.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll like this,” Merlin said as his fingers worked some sort of magic on the black box with all its buttons. Honestly, people these days and their buttons. Arthur couldn’t wait to tell Freya. “It’s a film about a ship called the Titanic. We won a bunch of Oscars for it. Those are prizes given to filmmakers.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said we. <em>We</em> won."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wrote some of the film’s score.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur’s eyes widened. He looked forward to hearing more of Merlin’s music. “Go on then. Let’s see this 'the Titanic' of yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile, Merlin pressed another button. This modern age magic of his was pretty impressive. Even if Merlin didn’t see it that way. It didn’t take long before Arthur was completely enthralled by the story of Jack and Rose on their big ship. After a while he stopped asking Merlin questions about everything he saw on the screen, and simply enjoyed the story. Merlin dozed off, right before the part where the rescue teams arrived and Jack and Rose got fished out of the water. Arthur glanced at Merlin to see if the other man had seen him tear up during the scene where Jack and Rose got married, but was reassured by Merlin’s soft snores. Good. He’d been made fun of enough for one evening, thank you very much. </span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dear readers, if by now you're having a "wait... what?"-moment, don't worry, you're supposed to. If you've had smaller ones during previous chapters, well... kudos to you ;) </p><p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I definitely had fun writing it.<br/>Feel free to share your thoughts with me in the comments! </p><p>I've also written a short fic for the Camelove event on Tumblr, where we see how Nadine and Merlin met. You can find it in the second part of the series (Yes, A Little Unsteady has become a part of a series now! I'm so excited!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The moment of truth in your lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song Merlin sings is Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls. You can find it <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6Qyc6fS4DsZjB2mRW9DsQs?si=9dff7bf76f9342de">here</a>.</p><p> </p><p>Trigger warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, followed by mental breakdown - anxiety attack - blood - violence. There's nothing graphic, but I feel like it could be upsetting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Another!” Arthur exclaimed before the last note had even rung out.  </p><p>Merlin laughed, but was already taking the capo off the third fret of his guitar. “You’re a slaver, you know this, right?” </p><p>He looked at the blond seated next to him on the dark leather sofa, amazed at his unending enthusiasm for Merlin’s work. He kept asking for more, even after sitting together in the morning sun streaming in through the tall glass windows of Merlin’s apartment, for hours on end. Arthur hadn’t been above begging Merlin to play song after song, and he’d been more than happy to comply. At first Merlin had simply shown Arthur the different tracks he’d created by playing them on his laptop. That hadn’t lasted long. After a while, Arthur had caught on to Merlin’s gaze as it flickered towards his guitar case and the digital piano Arthur had dubbed “the black and white table”. Merlin had hobbled over to the piano stool on his crutches. He’d tried to explain what was so special about his Roland RD-2000, while running his fingers over the keys, but Arthur hadn’t listened. Not to Merlin's explanation at least. </p><p>After that, Merlin played pretty much everything he’d written for the film industry in the past couple of years.  Merlin switched between instruments every now and then, but kept going back to his old mahogany Martin with its numerous dents and scratches, that each told a story of their own. It hadn’t taken Arthur long to figure out calling Merlin’s guitar a “big lute” was a bad idea.</p><p>He kept doing so, just to tease him, which resulted in Merlin pretending to be tired and saying he needed a break from playing. Maybe two weeks of rest?  </p><p>Arthur flung a pillow at his head in return.  </p><p>Merlin alternated between playing the scores he’d composed for film soundtracks and showing Arthur parts of the films they’d ended up being used in. Other songs Merlin had composed for cinema had been bought by pop stars and had been turned into something else entirely. He couldn’t get enough of the way Arthur’s nose wrinkled whenever he felt they’d ruined the song Merlin had written. At some point, he’d huffed after hearing the first line in a young singer’s voice and gone over to the audio system, yanked the power chord out of the socket and had told Merlin to start over so he could forget all about what he considered a personal attack on his eardrums.  </p><p>Arthur smiled, clearly reminiscing about their morning, just as Merlin did. Merlin could pinpoint the exact moment Arthur realised what he’d just called him. Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I wouldn’t say slaver. Just very... convincing!”  </p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes at that, but he was already trying to figure out what to play next. His fingers stroked the guitar strings, the tips raw from having played all morning after being forced to take some time off while he was in the hospital.  </p><p>“The next film I worked on was called City of Angels,” Merlin said. “It’s about a man, an angel, who falls in love with a human. They can’t be together. The angel can’t do anything but watch his love from afar, unable to reach her, unable to touch. Until somehow they find a way to make it work.”  </p><p>Merlin smiled and started to hum before falling into a soft strumming pattern. He looked down at the floor when he started to sing, and hoped Arthur didn’t notice how his voice sounded less even than it had before.  </p><p>“<em>I’d give up forever to touch you, I know that you feel me somehow</em>,” Merlin sang. His voice grew a bit stronger and he dared to look up at Arthur. Their eyes locked. </p><p>“<em>You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be, and I don’t want to go home right now</em>." </p><p>They didn’t break eye contact. Not once throughout the song. As the song progressed, Merlin felt his voice grow hoarse, while he struggled to keep his breathing even. He hadn’t thought of just how much he’d be revealing when singing this. Hadn’t imagined the reaction he’d gotten either. Hadn’t foreseen the expression on Arthur’s face to be so... so damn... vulnerable.  </p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want the world to see me. I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken. I just want you to know who I am.” </em>
</p><p>Merlin swallowed. He choked out a last “<em>I just want you to know who I am</em>,” and felt his body shake. </p><p>He struck the final chord and looked down at his guitar. His fingers trembled and he clenched his hand into a fist, only to have it covered by Arthur’s a moment later.  </p><p>He let Arthur take his hand in his own and turn it over, after which he slowly opened Merlin’s hand to run his fingers over it slowly. Palm to fingertips and back again. Merlin didn’t stop shaking. </p><p>“Was this about...” Arthur started, hesitation clear in his voice. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Our boy’s got a brain. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin nodded. “The story reminded me of us. Of you, I mean. I try not to remember any of it, but sometimes I can’t help it. It’s...” His voice cracked. </p><p>“It’s incredible, Merlin. You are. The fact that you’ve... created this. All of this. Absolutely incredible.” </p><p>He kept his eyes down, kept looking at Arthur’s fingers, as they traced those same patterns from his palm to his calloused fingertips.  </p><p>When Merlin didn’t say anything, Arthur continued, “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. For spending as much time alone as you have. For not being there to make it better.” </p><p>Merlin kept his eyes on their hands, even when his vision started to blur.   </p><p>“I tried,” Arthur said, “I tried to get back. I need you to know that I did. Every day. I didn’t stop trying. Not once.” </p><p>Merlin looked up. He swallowed and opened his mouth to respond, when Arthur’s next words left his lips. </p><p>“I tried to get back to you. I know. I know who you are,” Arthur said pointedly, referring to the song Merlin had just sang to him. “I know who you were, once, and I see the person you’ve become. I see the way you struggle and I see how you don’t give up, how you keep trying. Kept trying. For so very long. And-” Arthur swallowed, “I am so grateful you didn’t give up. So grateful you kept going long enough for me to find my way back to you.” </p><p>The words echoed in Merlin’s mind. Back to him. He hadn’t said he’d tried to get back to Camelot. Back to the land of the living. He’d said he’d tried to get back to him.  </p><p>To Merlin.  </p><p>Merlin lifted the guitar off of his lap and placed it on the floor where it leaned against the sofa, the bright mahogany in stark contrast to the black leather. As soon as he was convinced his guitar wouldn’t fall over, he turned back to Arthur, who was still tracing the same patterns on his skin, over and over again. He leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. His eyes found a pair of bright blue ones, and with a sigh, he pressed his lips against Arthur’s.  </p><p>The other man froze.  </p><p>Shit.  </p><p>Oh shit. He didn’t think. Hadn’t thought. He’d just... The song. And then Arthur’s words. Merlin hadn’t considered this might not have been what Arthur was going for.  </p><p>In less than a second, Merlin pulled back. He took in the sight of the man before him, his breathing shallow, pupils shot with surprise. Or maybe shock. Please don’t let it be shock.  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Now look what you did. You fucked it all u- </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Arthur silenced the voice in Merlin’s head when he lifted both hands to cup Merlin’s face. His eyes glistened right before he closed them, as he leaned in to kiss Merlin.  </p><p>As soon as his lips touched Merlin’s, Arthur let out a sigh that made the hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck stand up. Merlin didn't think. Didn't do anything but focus on the feeling of Arthur’s mouth on his, intent on riding this out, seeing where it went and dealing with the fallout after.  </p><p>His hands travelled upwards over Arthur’s back until they finally found that bright blond hair of his. It was so soft. Much, much softer than Merlin had expected it to be. He tugged at it gently, bringing Arthur's face even closer to his own. What had started as a chaste kiss turned into a sloppy one, after Merlin opened his mouth to deepen it.  </p><p>A moan filled the silence between them. Merlin wasn’t sure who made the sound. Not that it mattered. Nothing did. Not right now. </p><p>Merlin let himself fall back on the sofa and pulled Arthur down on top of him, groaning at the discomfort he felt when he realised he still couldn’t move his leg. Arthur immediately caught on and started to shift his weight. “Don’t you dare stop,” Merlin growled against his lips, when he felt the other man slow. Arthur chuckled. Merlin could feel the sound vibrate through his own body. Arthur kissed him slowly, while lowering one hand to Merlin’s thigh, where he traced the edges of the cast around Merlin’s leg. Merlin shivered. </p><p>“You’re still recovering,” Arthur said, his fingers still tracing Merlin’s sensitive skin. </p><p>“I am. Faster than any of the doctors expected I would, too, so don’t treat me as if I’m some fragile bird.” Merlin knew he sounded impatient at best, and the begging tone in his voice probably hadn’t escaped Arthur’s attention either.  </p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Maybe he just doesn’t want you. Tested out the waters, figured out there’s better fishing grounds out there. Can’t blame him, can we?  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin winced and tried to push the voice back.  </p><p>“Hey,” Arthur whispered, tracing Merlin’s jawline with his thumb, “where did you go?” </p><p>“It’s just that...” Merlin swallowed. Arthur nodded, encouraging him to continue. “You don’t... You don’t have to do this, you know. If you feel sorry for me or whatev-” </p><p>Arthur laughed. The prat had the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be such an idiot, Merlin. In about five seconds, I’m going to kiss you again. Before I do, I want you to listen closely.” His voice turned serious when he continued, “We have many things to discuss. There are things we have to talk about. But not right now. Right now, I want to lie here with you until the sun goes down and find out if this-” Arthur traced Merlin’s clavicle with his thumb- “tastes as good as your lips did just now.”  </p><p>Merlin swallowed. </p><p>“After that, I would very much like to take my sweet time discovering the rest of you. As soon as you’ve recovered. But we have time.” Arthur’s jaw twitched slightly when he said those last three words.  </p><p>“Nod if you understand.” </p><p>Not even a second after Merlin started nodding, Arthur’s mouth found his again. </p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p> </p><p>“So you didn’t tell him.” Freya rolled her eyes. Arthur had waited until he was sure Merlin was sleeping, before getting a glass bowl out of Merlin’s cupboard and filling it with water so he could contact Freya again.  </p><p>“I didn’t, but I -”  </p><p>“But nothing. You’re lying to him, Arthur.” </p><p>Arthur sighed. She was right and she knew it. She knew he knew it, too. He hated when that happened. He pushed the water bowl a bit further on the salon table so he wouldn’t knock it over as he got into a more comfortable position.  </p><p>“I should just break the connection so you can go talk to him right away.” </p><p>“He’s asleep.” </p><p>Freya huffed.  </p><p>“You have to tell him. And not just because it’s the right thing to do. I need your help. Both of you. We figured out why things are falling apart on my side. One of the Keepers has gone missing. The Keeper of Time.” </p><p>“Someone keeps... Time? Like you do the Gates of Avalon?” </p><p>Freya grunted. “Do you ever pay attention when I talk to you?” </p><p>“Sssh, not that loud,” Arthur shushed her, glancing at the door to Merlin’s bedroom.  </p><p>“You know this wouldn’t be an issue if you weren’t such an ass, right?” </p><p>“Yes, got it, thank you. So less about me, more about you. What happened to the Keeper and what is it you need me to do?” </p><p>“There’s a place called the Crystal Cave, where Time is kept. Its Keeper has gone missing and things are... not exactly <em> when  </em>they’re supposed to be anymore,” Freya explained, “With the way time works on this side, it’ll be a while before any of us will get there. And by then it could be too late to repair any of the damage that has been done. You have Merlin’s magic. He knows how to use it. Together you should be able to-” </p><p>“You have my what now?” came from behind Arthur.  </p><p>Arthur’s breathing stopped. He felt as if someone had turned a bucket of ice water over his body on a hot summer’s day. He looked down at Freya’s face in the bowl to see she’d paled, too. He saw his own reflection in the water, saw his fiery red eyes. His eyes that shone with magic. Merlin’s magic.  </p><p>Arthur straightened his back before turning around. </p><p>“I can explain,” he started. Merlin winced upon seeing the blazing red in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur hadn’t broken the connection with Freya, but was starting to think maybe he should have, when Merlin took a step towards the coffee table. And another, leaning even heavier on his crutches than he usually did. His body seemed to have stiffened.  </p><p>“I can... I can explain,” Arthur said again, a treacherous tremor in his voice. Merlin didn’t respond. He turned his gaze towards the glass bowl on the table.  </p><p>Merlin didn’t return Freya’s greeting. Nor her smile. He studied her face with a puzzled look, as if he was trying to figure out where he knew her from. Freya tried talking to him again. Her words didn’t seem to register. After what felt like minutes, he turned to Arthur again. He was standing so close Arthur could see the reflection of his own crimson eyes in Merlin’s blue ones.  </p><p>“You have magic?”  </p><p>Arthur nodded. He doubted he’d be able to speak, even if he knew what to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Freya staring at him, a hand clasped in front of her mouth.  </p><p>“My magic?” </p><p>Arthur nodded again. He took a step forward and placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.  </p><p>Bad idea. Merlin closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, they seemed unfocused, the pupils dilated so wide, only the slightest sliver of blue was visible anymore.  </p><p>“Don’t,” Merlin growled, as he pulled Arthur's hand off of him, “touch me.” </p><p> </p><p> ***</p><p> </p><p>Arthur was -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>He took your magic. He took it he took it he took it. He took your magic and he kept it for himself. Don’t you just love knowing you looked everywhere? Went across the whole fucking planet to find something he had all along? Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you just love this? I do. I do I do I do.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin looked at his hands and then up at Arthur’s face. He swallowed back a -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>And it’s not just that, Merls. Not even close. Want to know the best part? Did you hear what he just said? He was looking at you. Watching you. Watching us. As we kept achieving nothing at all. Over and over again. Looking at you, he said. Watching you. With her. With that bitch. What’s her name again? I know we recognised her. I do. Someone you once knew. Someone he knew. Didn’t you kill her? Someone killed her. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Please,” Arthur pleaded, a streak of red on his cheek. “Merlin, please just give -” </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Hahaha! Merlin!  We remember! He killed her! He killed that bitch. Arthur did. We remember now, don’t we. We remember how he drove a sword through her and gutted her like a fish. What was her name again? Maya? Theya? Who cares right? I don’t. Want to know why I don’t? Because they don’t give a fuck about you either. Sitting together. Laughing together. Watching together. Using magic together. Magic. Your magic. The magic they stole.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Merlin! No!” a woman shouted. Her voice came from the bowl. The magical bowl. It w- </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Oh I can’t fucking wait to see how you cope with this one? What’s it gonna be, Merlin? A week long bender? Couple of shots? Anonymous fucks? What’s it gonna be? Oh I know, we could run away again. Find somewhere new. Start over. Run. Just run really fucking hard. It’ll be glorious. Have that little French bitch come look for us again. We could go somewhere she can’t find us. Just disappear. Make it all go away.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Red. Red everywhere. His hands were covered in it. The floor, too. There was a puddle of water on the floor, as well as what appeared to have once been a glass bowl of some sorts. Why was he lying on the fl  -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Time to get going, Merlin, my darling idiot Merlin. Time to get out of here.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>There was glass everywhere. Merlin felt the shards dig into the soles of his feet and -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>He hurt you. He hurt us. We probably deserve it. Don’t you think we deserve this? Oh this hurts so good. Feel it? Feel how there’s a giant gaping hole in your chest? That’s what betrayal feels like, Merlin. Good for us. Good for you. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Arthur -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Arthur. ARTHUR, Merlin. I tried to warn you, but no, you had to go and spend the whole day kissing the man. Whimpering under him. Begging him to take your clothes off. I love being right. I knew I was and you knew it too and I knew you knew and I knew it too.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Merlin winced as he heard the sound of the phone hitting the kitchen wall. Arthur’s phone. The one he’d pulled from his hands while he was calli -  </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Leave. Let’s go. Time to get going. Time. They were saying something about time, weren’t they? Then again, they were saying a lot of things. Not that they matter. None of it does. Want to know why? Because they’re a bunch of thieves. That beautiful blond of yours. A beautiful thief. Took your magic. Took the one thing that made you worth a damn. And didn’t even plan on giving it back to you.  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>At some point darkness had set in. When did the sun set? Was he outside?  </p><p>He was.  </p><p>He was outside.  </p><p>He was - </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Mine.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you for being here. &lt;3 </p><p>I feel like I should apologise for making you wait so long and then ending the chapter the way I did... ;)</p><p>Songs that influenced this chapter are<br/>Title song: Iris - Goo Goo Dolls<br/>Better Yet - James Spaite<br/>Collide - Howie Day<br/>Echo - Jason Walker<br/>Demons - Hayley Kiyoko</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for being here. This WIP is updated regularly. I've had a bit of a hiatus in when real life decided to get in the way, but we're back on track now! If you feel like talking to me - about this fic or pretty much anything really - you can find me on Tumblr (@shut-up-Merlin)!</p><p>This is the first time I've ever had the courage to post something I'm working on and so far the support I've received has been wonderful, your Kudos and comments mean so much, thank you! As you might notice, English isn't my first language. I don't have a beta so feel free to let me know if there's anything that needs fixing!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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